The Shoutmen
by Cearbhail
Summary: Skyrim has fallen to the Thalmor. The old heroes...erased. Shouters called the Shoutmen have tried to save Skyrim, but failed. But one Shoutmen remains. And once he learns that the older Shoutmen have been killed off one by one, he starts asking questions. When he discovers the truth about hte deaths, he has but one question. "Who Shouts the Shoutmen?"
1. Chapter 1

**Cearbhail:**_ Setting, Skyrim, 100 years after the rise of the Dragonborn who saved the world from Alduin. A rise in Dragonborns has led to a newer breed of crimefighters...the Shoutmen. Each has their own specialized Shouts, some well known by all and others that well... have been created on a whim. 100 years of awesomeness led the Shoutmen to be respected, until the rise of the Aldmeri Dominion in Skyrim started forcing the Shoutmen to engage in a new war. Unfortunately, when the war failed on thier part, they were hated. Now, the world's greatest heroes are slowly being killed off, while the Aldmeri Dominion makes their move. Only one Shoutman can solve this war and his name is... Bloodstain._

* * *

This world is a dark place. Stained by the very blood that it asked for, in a war that we were no match in. Now, this country that once stood so proud is down on its knees, sucking the dick of the ones who now rule us. The Stormcloaks, our soldiers still fight alongside us in our futile struggle to save this ruined country, which has been scarred with unnatural magics and steel. Our great country sides have been polluted by oils and gasses. I watch from the mountaintops, watching with bloodstained tears down at the dead bodies of innocent women and children, while the men who cowered behind their walls look up to me. They scream for help, but when I look down the only thing I whisper is "Go fuck yourselves." And then I give them the Dragon, two fingers aimed in an offensive manner. I will fight on my own terms for the men who still matter: my fellow Shoutmen and the Stormcloaks who still serve us.

My misery is the misery of Skyrim, of true Skyrim at least. It wasn't fair. This world was not supposed to be this dark. Our Princess Cecilie told us that everything would work out ok. Well, she told the older generation of what I am. I am a Shoutman. I am a user of Thu'um. But I'm not some ordinary man; I'm a hero, a Thane of Skyrim. The Shoutmen were a specialized team, combatively trained, strong military leaders who were brought together, injected with Dragonborn blood, and turned into Shouters. It was first an experiment only used by the Thalmor, then it moved to us. Then…war…blood…and then…

Death.

Death to all who lived the free life of a Nord, or anyone living in Skyrim. We're all slaves now, slaves to an elf owned world. We were the last hope for freedom, and we quit with our heads down. Well, I haven't quit, the Stormcloaks have not quit.

My life was going just fine. I was staying enough off the Thalmor's radar, but then, Shoutmen started dying off. People who hung up their masks and lived the farmer's life, surrendering to the Aldmeri Dominion. For years, there were no problems. The Thalmor did not fear us, but now…we're dying. Someone is killing us and I want to know why. My name is Bloodstain, and this is my story.

…

"Did you hear? The Graybeard was found dead this morning…"

That was the news that brought me up to High Hrothgar. Why else would an Imperial wearing a bloodstained facemask and a full-body coat with no personality come up to such a high place? I sure wasn't here to talk to a bunch of old guys who would rather pray on top of this mountain then help what was left of the Shoutmen fight the Aldmeri Dominion.

There was one bad thing about being on top of this mountain, especially with the crime that had been committed. Well, unfortunately, once I reached the top, I had to jump down. I had to retrace all his steps. But, before I had to do that, I had to look for clues. I was once a Shoutman myself…well, ok I still was. Once a Shoutman, always a Shoutman, my dad used to say back when we were looked upon with valor and respect. Back before we were ostracized in the public's viewpoint by use of public examples of what happened if a Shoutman even stepped in to help anyone. Now look at us…

Another one of us is dead. Why would someone kill an old man like the Graybeard anyway? The man was a hero, one of the original Shoutmen. He got tired of killing for the Aldmeri Dominion once they took power and retired to live the rest of his days like the rest of the older generation. Now…he's the third one dead this month. Someone is after us… and they're killing them…with _Shouts_…

…

That's our thing. That's why _we're_ the Shoutmen. We were the generation that followed our great immortal leader…the Dragonborn, Asger. Yeah, funny story about that. Some of the mages at the College of Winterhold got ahold of him for some testing of his magical ability to Shout. That was what started the Shoutmen. Well, even though the magical principle was founded and recreated into a new blood pathogen that could be isolated and injected into only selective persons, because of how the blood and spirit mesh or something spiritual like that, it caused a great sickness in our leader. He died a year later, one year into our war. Our Queen Lydia tried her best to run the country but a Thalmor assassin killed her in her sleep, leaving our county in the hands of the Dragonborn's daughter, Princess Cecilie, a Dragonborn herself. She was a powerful mage/seer, but even she could not hold the thrown for long. When she fell, so did our country. Now…I'm all alone. I only wish I had been around back then to fight that war. I know I could have done some good. It keeps me up at night, wondering what I could have done.

Anyway, enough about the backstory. I was standing at the crest of High Hrothgar, looking at an ash imprint of what appeared to a Graybeard…not our Graybeard, an actual Graybeard, burned into the ground. He must have gotten in the killer's way to kill our friend. Everyone else was putting this down as suicide, but I knew better. Why would an old man who was most likely going to die in a year throw himself off a cliff? I don't know, but I do know this…too many of us were dead already…and all looked like suicide attempts.

There was one other thing that set all this murders apart. The way they die. One had his skin ripped to shreds, a tribute to the Shout Unrelenting Force. Another old Orc was found with his head fused inside the wall. The guy was so-named Ethereal. He was our invisible can't-touch-this guy. Well now, his head was fused with the inside of a pub with large amounts of alcohol found in his blood. He was ridden off as getting too drunk and trying to walk through the wall like he was known for in his youth. Well now…I guess his powers just began to fade with old age and booze on the brain? No, not Ethereal. For starters…he was a monk. He didn't drink. So for him to just lose his head in a wall meant that someone else who could become ethereal had to put his head in the wall as well. But who could do that? Most of us could only learn one or two Shouts. Heck, I…

We'll get to that later.

Ok…some of us…didn't…well…

FINE! I don't know any Shouts! OK! YOU happy now?

Jeez, I was always a fan of the Shoutmen, what made them special were just how awesome they were at saving all of Tamriel day after day. They were our version of heroes. My supreme detective ability plus mastery of every weapon and martial art…as well as the psychological arts is what got me in with the Shoutmen. I made it by just imitating Shouts…by shooting magicka out of my mouth. They were weaker and they exhausted me…sometimes I would burn my lips or even catch my mask on fire…but it worked. I only had to appear to be able to Shout, my fellow Shoutmen would always say to me.

I shook my head and looked down at the crime scene. Two Stormcloak soldiers stood beside me, pen and paper looking at the crime scene with indifferent eyes.

The male Stormcloak shook his head. "Ok, crazy Shoutman goes well…crazy, Shouts his buddy over here, comes back to Nirn, sees what he does, and jumps off the cliff."

The female Stormcloak nods. She pulled her helmet back to her face and smiled. "Looks like our buddy over here…" She slid her helmet over her face and crossed her arms. "just couldn't take the heat of being Shouted at.."

I reached over and backslapped her across her head. "Every time. Every time we go to these things you just have to say some sort of stupid pun…you know that? It's rude…he's dead. Respect it." I said as I walked past her and up to the melted pile of what appeared to be a charred body.

I inspected the aura of energy that surrounded the mist of charred remains. Yeah, it was a Shout alright. I looked off to my left, where the Graybeard threw himself off the cliff. I noticed something strange and slowly made my way up to the cliff. I looked down at the rock and noticed the scuff marks that pulled away from the rock. It looked like tiny razors had worked away at the rock. The Shout, Unrelenting Force, was at work here. Graybeard didn't throw himself off…he was Shouted off.

I stood up and looked at the Stormcloaks. "This was no suicide. This…" I pointed at the rock beneath me, "is residue from Unrelenting Force. No…Graybeard was killed, just like all the others. The other guy must have walked in as it happened and met a Fire Breath. No witnesses to report what happened. It only worked out that it appeared that Graybeard killed his friend and then jumped off the cliff."

The male Stormcloak crossed his arms. "But…who would be killing the Shoutmen? They are heroes to all of Skyrim."

I shook my head. "I don't know. It could be the Aldmeri Dominion; I would not put it against them, but I do know this. No one messes with the Shoutmen. What troubles me is this. Only the Shoutmen know how to Shout. So…if these old guys are dying by Shouts… Who Shouts…the Shoutmen?"

I turned around and looked over the edge. It was a long way to fall but I had to get a good idea of where Graybeard's body landed. I needed to see if enough of his body survived to be inspected for evidence. He was killed for a reason. No one would just walk up the 7,000 stairs just to kill a very old man who would die soon anyway. Nothing here made sense.

"Well…you weren't supposed to suspect murder. You were supposed to just admit that your friend went crazy so we wouldn't have a reason."

"A reason for what?" I asked as I peered down the bottom of the mountain. I think I could see a body down there.

"A reason for this." Then a hand planted itself on my back and I felt a shove hit me.

The force of the kick knocked me off the cliff and suddenly, the wind took me. I turned myself around and glanced up at the face of the Stormcloak as he waved to me.

"Goodbye, Bloodstain. Soon enough, you'll live to your name." He called as his face disappeared from view.

I snapped myself around and smiled through my mask. My hunch was right. Purposely putting myself so close to the cliff that a single shove would throw me off worked out. The Stormcloaks, who were our allies before, were now allied against us. Someone had paid them off to assist in killing us off. Either that or High King Farwen was behind all the murders. He was a Thalmor and he knew how to Shout. I had to tread carefully now. Everyone would think that I would be dead. Well, that's what a mask is for….isn't it? Take it off and no one knows who you are until you put it back on.

Well, over the time of thinking of how I should land this little fall was easy. I just continued to look at the snowy band and prepared to 'Shout'. I knew just the spell here that would do the trick. I created it myself so that I could become ethereal. I brought my hand up to my mouth and made a ring with my fingers. I actually did have to say the shouting words, but it was the combination of my words and the magicka in my hands that made the Shout work.

"_Feim Zii Gron_…" I Shouted out. Blue mist flew out of my ringed fingers and enveloped my falling body. I hit the ground with no sound, no snow thrown up, and no footprints. I looked off to my left and saw Graybeard…sitting on the ground, holding his broken leg, and a blood stain on his stomach.

"Bloodstain…you came for me." His old voice seemed too distant and weary. His eyes were glazing over. I had to hurry.

I rushed up to him and started feeding Restoration magic in his wound. "Graybeard, you'll be ok. Just tell me: who did this? Who is killing the Shoutmen?"

His twisted smile that he was famous for reared up. "It was…" Then…his head snapped back, his voice nothing but a whisper. I looked at his forehead to see a hole right in the center of his head. A char mark? From a lightning wad? How did I not see that earlier?

The answer was obvious. Because someone had just shot it. Still ethereal, I turned myself around to see what might have caused it. I didn't see anything. Whoever had just fired that off did it from far away and with precision aim. Damn it! Someone was toying with me. Why? Why not just kill me when they had the chance? Oh…I was still ethereal. I had to hold this spell up for as long as I could, if I wanted to live long enough to solve this murder.

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_**Cearbhail: **This is going to be a short story. Don't worry, it won't last too long, maybe five chapters._


	2. Chapter 2

**Cearbhail:**_ A short chapter, but hey... almost all my chapters are short. I try to get the message behind the chapter out and then... I move onto a new message, a new chapter. So... here's the latest Shoutmen._

* * *

-Bloodstain-

_Bloodstain's journal, entry 1_

_I have decided to follow one of the core principles of the Shoutmen; to write our thoughts in a journal. The very idea was created from our late Shoutman, Seer. She was the daughter of our Dragonborn, a princess of our nation. She made us for the very reason of fighting the Aldmeri Dominion. It was a grand war, a war that I was not alive in. A war that I had no chance of being part of. It was a war that I wished I could have fought in. I know that I was good enough to make a difference, making some choices that some of the previous Shoutmen, Graybeard included. He was one of the young Dragonborn who were discovered after the Thalmor used our original Dragonborn's blood to create new Thalmor Inquisitors._

_He hated the Thalmor. The experiments, the training, the blood draws. He told us, the younger generation, about some of the things he had to go through. When the war came, there were so many Shouters that the Shoutmen did not stand a chance. Our proud nation was destroyed, our High King killed, our princess murdered. I am all that's left, me and a few Shoutmen who are hidden among the locals. They long hung their masks and silenced their Thu'um. As such, I can see why I was targeted, me and Graybeard. The older generation is being hunted, killed, and I…the only active Shoutman, is everything the Aldmeri Dominion hates. I am their fear and I will find out why._

_What has them worried? 100 years and now they strike? Something smells rotten. There must be something wrong on their end. Maybe this is my chance to change the world._

_Bloodstain._

_…_

I managed to escape from Graybeard's murder site without inquiring any injury or attack. Just to make sure I stayed out of sight, I threw myself underwater and started swimming. I knew that there was at least one more Shoutman still alive. He was in hiding. If you think I'm paranoid, you should meet him. He's a Forsworn. He's been hiding in the hills with a bunch of madmen who have become guerilla warriors. Funny enough, when he presented himself to the Shoutmen, he actually named himself Forsworn. Just like how Graybeard called himself by his title.

Currently, I was walking around mask-less. I did not want anyone to know who I was and it worked well. Since I never came out of the closet, so to say, no one really knew I was who I was. Getting from the river near Windhelm to Reach territory was not easy. Of course, I don't trust any form of travel that I can't control. That left out carriages and caravans. A grown Imperial man walking with a bunch of Khajiit outcasts? Nope, that does not bode well with people who know how to think. So, I was going to steal a horse, but then I thought better of it. Word gets around that a horse gets stolen and then so man who may or may not be the famous Bloodstain just happens to be on a horse heading to the Reach? No, someone would figure that out too.

So, with all those options out of the equation, I was stuck with one option: walk. Here's how I did it. I stop by a local tavern, grilled a person there, grabbed a bounty, and said I was a bounty hunter. Now while I'm walking around, heading to some cave near the Reach, I can claim that I'm a bounty hunter. That will satisfy any Thalmor agents who are out looking for Bloodstain, enough to the point to where they will at least question my whereabouts. If nothing else, my cleaning lady at Whiterun Hall will state that I was in my lobby studying before heading out to collect a bounty to bring in some extra cash to pay for my excessive drinking habit and cheap hookers. She knows the drill, that's our thing. When questioned, that's her story. I live by it every time I leave the house.

Luckily for me, my bounty was an easy one. Only 1,000,000 gold…to kill a man dressed in a large overcoat, sporting a bloodstained mask. He wears a hat, and is a Nord. He is also a Shouter…hmm. Gee, I wonder who that could be. No sign of who requested it, only to bring his head to the Thalmor Embassy up in Solitude. Jeez, think I might go crash a party later. Once I get a team together. I have one old guy to go find and one young guy like myself. This was going to be fun.

Currently, even though I walked nonstop for perhaps a day, I was sitting in another tavern, just drinking a pint. I was listening to the current talk around town.

"Did you hear? The Stormcloaks that followed Bloodstain up the mountain said that he found his old buddy, dead. He jumped right off the mountain, it seems." A drunk Nord who was spilling his drink all over the floor couldn't help but read off of the paper sitting in front of him. I could not help but glance over.

"I heard that when he found out, he went mad, Shouted an innocent bystander, and then was shoved off a cliff by one of the Stormcloaks. They never found his body and now the Thalmor want his body recovered. They're offering a one million gold reward for it." His buddy spouted. Man…it was amazing how fast talk flew these days. Offer up a few gold coins and the word will spread like fire. The Thalmor have something going for them at least. They know how to make a man's home his enemy.

The bartender was eyeballing me the entire time. "You're an Imperial, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah? So?"

He wiped down another glass. "We don't see many of you anymore, not since the war between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks ages ago."

"That was 100 years ago. Times change." I offered back. It was true. My kind did not normally come to Skyrim. We were…disliked. We lost the war after all and when someone losses, they right to speak gets revoked. History is written by the survivors, and just like with the Thalmor, the history of my people was snuffed out. Once the Empire lost here, they retreated back to Cyrodiil, where they met a strong Aldmeri Dominion waiting for them. It was a bloodbath. Any surviving Imperials were a miracle…and here I was. I'm a fucking miracle.

The bartender turned around with a shrug. Everyone thought that Bloodstain was a Nord and for good reason. When I put on that mask, I become a Nord. Well, in speech patterns only. Everyone just assumes that someone that great at fighting can't be an Imperial. It's amazing how people forget the basic truth of our history. Well, it doesn't matter anymore. My breed is an endangered species, as are Orcs. They were long hunted to extinction, with the exclusion of the Thalmor Inquisitors, who were Orcs who were experimented on to turn into Shouting powerhouses. The experiments did a lot to them, twisting their minds, and rendering their bodies to mush after a year or two of being used. Their chemistry could not cope with the constant changes of the dragon blood.

"Did you see the latest bounty on the wall? Some guy in the Reach is worth one million as well. Some guy who dressed up like a Forsworn." He laughed. "Can you believe it? Two Shouters in one day make it to the top of the Thalmor's most wanted list?" It was the same guy from before.

I squeezed until my shot glass exploded into shards of glass. It was enough to catch everyone's attention. I spun from my seat, facing the Nord who dared to stand up and walk up to me, standing a good three inches taller than I was. I won't even bother going into muscle size.

He looked down at me. "Whatcha want? You have something to say?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Why do you think that is? Suddenly, the heroes of Skyrim are wanted by Skyrim's enemies? Doesn't that sound odd to you? They've existed for years past the war with no hunting, not as long as they played a part, and now…they're being hunted and killed? Do you think it's because the Thalmor are scared of something? Something that…they fear that they can't control? What if…all the Nords from Skyrim just woke up…and fought for their land? Do you think you could take it back?"

My words had everyone stunned. They looked like they were thinking for once. I grabbed another shot glass and downed another kick of brandy. I turned to face him again. "How has your life been since the purge? Ever since all the jarls, all the thanes, killed? How was it to be told that you could no longer own a sword; that you had to work in the mines…not because you had to earn a living, but so that your son would not end up at the execution camps around Tamriel? Do you even know what life was like before the Thalmor? A time without war?"

No one answered. I slammed my glass down. I looked around. "I thought so. You've all been living in your bubble, afraid that if you move the wrong way, it will pop. Well, guess what…" I pulled out my mask and slid it over my face. "I'M BLOODSTAIN!" I threw my arms out. "Now…who want's a piece of me?"

I looked around. No one moved. One Nord, someone who hadn't spoken all this time, unsheathed a knife and charged at me. As he came close, I grabbed his slashing arm, snapped his elbow, kicked him off his feet, flipped him onto his back, took his knife, and stabbed him in the throat.

After he was dispatched, I looked back up at the remaining Nords. "Now…I'm going to go help a friend. You can either sit here and live in your bubble, or… you can do the Nord thing and begin forming a revolution. The Thalmor are scared…and for good reason. We are taking back Skyrim."

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_**Cearbhail: **Alright 2/ possible 10 chapters. Good, almost done already._


	3. Chapter 3

**Cearbhail:**_ Yay, a chapter 3. You know what, I am really starting to like this Bloodstain character. He has such a Batman complex that it's killing me._

* * *

_Bloodstain's journal, entry 2_

_A day has passed since I rallied some drunken Nords to fight back against the Aldmeri Dominion. I'm not sure if anything I said remained in their heads, but I think I got to some people. This world may be a giant piss-hole but even this place still has some noble hearts left. That's the problem isn't it? We live in a dark time, in a dark place. It doesn't matter how bright one's heart may shine if everywhere it turns there is more darkness to surround it. People are too afraid to act, thinking that they're the only ones who want change. I am change. I will bring it to them._

_Before I can go to the big town of Solitude and do us all a favor, I need my team ready. Forsworn and his agents are a good place to start, if only I could find them. I know a good place to start: Markarth. It's just a dark town with lips that will talk if a knife is applied somewhere vital. I know a good pair of lips that love to talk and I'm here now, looking for him. Someone will know where to find Forsworn. After all, he's here at least once a month to take back the city. If anything else, I could just wait and help give him a hand._

_Bloodstain…_

_…._

I walked around the lively streets of Markarth. It was called the city that was created by the Dwarves. Heh. If only the Dwarves could see this town now. They would shake their heads in shame. Prostitutes openly wandered the streets, flashing themselves to anyone who walked by. Their masters waited next to doorways, counting their coin as they prepared to sell off their girl to another 'lucky' person who was to happen on by.

The buildings themselves were stained with blood and oil. The mine that long became a prison was now a much deeper operation. The Thalmor long took over that mine and started using it to drill into the Dwarves' oil. The vein that they found seemed to run some of the Dwarven ruins across Skyrim. By tapping into the vein and sucking it dry, the old ruins have fallen into a state of disrepair. The Thalmor don't mind, they enjoy going into the now harmless ruins and taking whatever technology they want. They have all the oil they want to power anything they create. The oil vein that was drilled into did not only ruin any Dwarven ruins, the burned oil stained all the building in the town, making them fall apart. This town was a shell of what it used to be.

The air itself was polluted beyond repair. Why Forsworn would want this land back was beyond me. I would ditch this town and head for Whiterun, birthplace of the Companions…trained lapdogs of the Thalmor. Well, were I guess. They were long killed off and their noble house burnt down. Their downfall was a lot faster than that of our Shoutmen. That shows you just bad our purge was. Every great warrior and every noble family were killed in the dead of the night. The people running the holds now were Thalmor advisors and their trained lapdogs. The only surviving Jarl was Jarl Stormcloak, the leader of our army. We kept that line alive, it was our doing. So…why would he betray us now? I don't think he would, but I can't think of anyone else who could Shout us to death.

I did not bother taking off my mask. I wanted everyone to know I was here. I wanted them to know that change was approaching. As I walked through the trashed streets, I looked at the faces of the people I walked past. Everyone avoided me like I was a monster. My face always struck fear into those who did not live a good life. Everyone here who avoided me did so because they knew that I would find out sooner or later about what they did. In this town, everyone had a story. This was the worst town to be in. If only Riften were still around, I'm sure I'd have to balance the two towns out. But Riften was a hole in the ground. You can thank Marven Black-Briar. She thought she held power but when she sold out to the Thalmor and the purge began, the Thalmor came after her first. I'll have to hand it to her. She did not just die like a dog. She took the city with her in a flame of glory. She purged everyone inside it with her, including the army of bloodhounds sent by the Thalmor Embassy to take care of her. Heck of a way to go.

So, as I came up to the tavern that housed my good ol' buddy, I could only begin to pray that I stirred up some trouble while I was here. If I could get the Thalmor nervous, I was sure to get them to make mistakes. Mistakes were nice; I liked it when my enemies made mistakes. It made it easier for my blade to find a nice place to sink itself in.

I kicked in the door, busting it off its hinges. The door flew into the room, knocking over a couple of drinkers and their table of chess. The two of them stood up and glared over at me, but one look at my overcoat and my mask, as well as my hat, and they just moved away. I chuckled. It never gets old.

I spotted my target, an old man who was playing 'find the snowberry' with a stupid Argonian. I walked up to him, watching him about to win another gold coin from the Argonian as his eyes nervously watched three turned over cups move around in circles. One of the cups contained a snowberry, the other two were completely empty.

"Keep your eyes on the cup," My friend said. He was a Bosmer and at this moment, he was picking on his favorite species…beasts. "Don't take your eyes off for a second." I could hear his voice shift. "Close." He whispered. The Argonian blinked his eyes very slowly. In that second of delay, my friend flicked the snowberry out of the cup it was hidden under and into his sleeve. The Argonian opened his eyes and looked over at the cups.

My friend spread his arms out. "Ok, my good man. Where's the snowberry?"

The Argonian looked over the cups. "That one." He pointed to the one on the left. He would have been right if my Bosmer hadn't tampered with the game.

He lifted up the cup and shook his head, playing the sad game winner. "No, I'm sorry, but…you lose. That will be 10 gold."

The Argonian hissed in annoyance. "Three times in a row? Something is not right, I always win."

My friend shrugged. "Today's not your day. Try again tomorrow, maybe you'll win one."

The Argonian hissed in anger as he walked away. He took one glance at me and looked away. As he came by, he said, "I think that game handler is cheating. You should do what you do best."

I tilted my head to the side. Under a mask, it became a bit of a menacing glare to my prey. "I will."

The Argonian shuddered and worked his way out the broken door. I turned my attention to my friend and took a second to straighten my hat as I walked up to him and sat down.

He didn't even look up at me. "Price to pay is 10 gold, if you win you get 100 gold. Deal?" He said. Then he looked up at me and fell backwards out of his seat. I looked down at him, his face flushed white. "Bloodstain? What…what brings you here?"

I placed ten coins on the table. "I want a game. Let's play."

My friend cleared his throat nervously and showed me his snowberry. He placed it under a cup and started spinning it around with the cups. I continued to look up at him the entire time. I saw him glance up toward where my eyes were. "Are…aren't you going to watch the cups?" He asked, his voice full of worry.

"What makes you think I'm not? Can you see my eyes?" I asked back, leaning forward.

"N-no. I can't." He responded. He stopped the cups and said, "Pick your cup, sir."

I reached down to grab a cup, but I reached for his hand instead. I brought it up and chicken-winged it. I pushed my friend up to a wall and said, "Now…it's my turn for a game." I said as I pushed up on one of his fingers, breaking it.

My friend cried out in pain. "Gah! You didn't even ask me a question yet." He said through his screams.

I looked around. Everyone was pretending to not notice us. This was good. I looked back at my friend. "Oops, guess I forgot the rules. Ok…where's Forsworn?"

"They're everywhere." He said.

I snapped two more. "See, I knew you'd suck at this game. I meant the Shoutman. Where's my old partner?"

His knees collapsed and he started to fall to the floor. I continued to hold him up. "He's…he's… gah…he's at the old fort northeast of here. That's the rumor at least."

I dropped and let me fall to the floor to pamper his broken fingers. I walked over to the cups and lifted the one in the center. There was the snowberry. I tossed it to my friend and said, "I'll let you keep the ten gold, even though…I won."

I knew where I had to go now. There was an old fort that does not have a name anymore. I should have guessed my old friend was still there. Now, I just had to get there before some of my new enemies decided to follow me. I only hoped I was faster than how fast word spread around town. I doubt it. Nothing traveled faster than the word of a whore.

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_**Cearbhail**: Yes, the chapters are still short. I'll try to work on that, but at least the story is consistant so far._


	4. Chapter 4

**Cearbhail:**_ Yes, a new chapter for the Shoutmen. We finally get to meet Forsworn...or should I call him Madanach? Well, I'm sure I have someone interested now, but before you start correcting me for it being 100 years in the future, relax. It's his grandson. Anyway, enjoy._

* * *

_Bloodstain's journal, entry 3_

_I dreamt last night. It was a familiar dream. It was the dream where I wake up and I'm standing in the Blue Palace. Standing next to me are men and women I've never seen before. There are children present as well, all armed for combat. Standing in front of me is the original Shoutman, the Seer. She looks over at me and sticks out her hand for me to take it. She smiles and looks at me with her big white blind eyes. She wants me to join her in the fight. I take her hand, knowing full well that I was about to step into Oblivion with the worst of them. Looking around, I can see faces of old legend. Faces I've only heard about in the retelling of the Aedra Wars. I was honored to stand among them, even though I'm one of three adults present._

_I got to go out and fight, proudly kicking the Thalmor where it hurt the most…their egos. But as soon as we get out there, I wake up. And now, here I am, lying outside in the snow; my fist is up in the air, grasping at something that I cannot see but can still feel. It is desire. The desire to help in any way I can. I can make this world a better place, I know I can. I am but a match who will ignite all the candles in the world. When we gather we will drive the darkness away. I know I can do it._

_Bloodstain…_

…

I thought getting from Markarth to the unnamed ruin that lies northeast would have been easy. I was wrong. I never guessed that even this mucked up world would have a slave quarry. All the land of the Reach was being dug up by slaves. By slaves I bet you can guess who's leading the charge. The Aldmeri Dominion had long taken Dunmer and Redguards into their ranks, allowing them to publicly hold the beast races as slaves again. Among them now were Imperials and Nords who fought the system and lost. All of them had slave collars. Collars that not only invaded your mind and left you a shell of your being but also filled you with a soft of numbing pain that seemed to work its way into your soul. It was a sort of pain that worked on your nerves and willpower until you couldn't fight it anymore. Once the pain died off, so did your desire to fight anymore. When you thought about fighting, it started right back up.

Looking down at the Khajiits and Argonians now, being whipped by the Dunmer and Redguards, I could only think about how the Khajiit were once in the pocket of the Thalmor, ruined by one cat with a shiny sword. She doomed her own race to a life of servitude. I guess it wasn't long before the Thalmor tried taking them over as well. They wanted elves on top, not cats. And getting the Dunmer to side with them was easy once they were promised slaves again.

So, where I was, lying at the top of a quarry, looking down at the slaves swinging pickaxes at an old Dwarven ruin. They were looking for bits and pieces, I'm sure. I don't know exactly what they're looking for but I won't let them get away with this. I bet if I somehow freed the slaves that they would rally. They would become the driving force that was freedom. Freeing them was the Nord thing to do. Nords don't do slaves. They were forced to let their almost hated allies get chained up. It was amazing how fast how not allowing Khajiits and Argonians into towns became a law instead of just racial fears.

With how fast Nords began sympathizing with the very creatures they hated only days ago, it was a fast transaction to riots. Riots that were silenced as fast as they started. Thalmor have no remorse on killing anyone who gets in their way.

So, here I was. I counted maybe 200 Thalmor, most of them Dunmer, but some of them were the Altmer overlords. I could see one now, at the very end of a long stretch. He sat on his seat, being fanned by two Thalmor females. He was petting some creature and was getting fed snowberries like he was some king. How could I see that far? Well…a special mage power that allows me to amplify objects in the distance. I love my Illusion magic.

I looked down at the ground, thinking of what I could do to get some distractions going. Better yet…what was my plan? I never really thought these things through, but I had to have something planned. Otherwise, I was going to drop in and fall right into the Thalmor's hands. I did not want that. But, I could not just leave these slaves be.

I groaned as I pulled off my hat and scratched the top of my masked head. I wish this had been a smaller operation but…I did not have a choice anymore. I had to act. If I left these poor creatures here then I was no better than the rest of the slime that kept their eyes closed every second of the day. As I stood up and reached for my sword…I thought of something. These slaves were not going anywhere and I was only a half hour away from my friend's fort. If he was still there and his forces were still training and preparing, then I might just get this thing settled fast. If everything worked out perfectly, I could ignite a flame so bright that everyone in Skyrim will wake up. Then, when I march up to Solitude and slam the doors wide open, everyone will see the change. Everyone will act.

…

I could not believe that I stepped away from the quarry. I did not know that they had children there are well. I knew that the Thalmor took orphans and did something to them. I did not know that they ended up in slave camps. It was a fitting punishment that I could see coming from the Thalmor. A person wakes up, sees what the world really is and then…gets killed by the Thalmor for doing so. Then their kids have nowhere to go, so the Thalmor take them. Then, they end up in camps to dig their whole lives.

Even still, as I looked down at the quarry before stepping away, a kid saw me and looked up. He only saw me for a few seconds but once he saw me…he noticed me. He knew who I was. I could see hope in his eyes. He knew that I was watching…that I would help. But…just as the heartless Nords of the present…I stepped away, stepping away from the ledge, away from the kid. It must have been spirit breaking to see; a Shoutman, a hero of the people…turn his back on the very thing he stood against. There was no hope now, not unless I did something.

That kid did not know that I was coming back, that I would bring an entire army with me. He did not know a thing, but I was sure to make sure he was the first one to see me again. He'd be watching. He would know freedom soon enough.

I smiled through my mask as I came up on the old fort. It was the old fort that no one ever talked about anymore. Fort forgotitsname. It was a very well-known fort. Now all I had to do was get inside it. I took a step forward, straightening my jacket as I prepared to walk inside.

"Move and we'll take your head off." A voice called from beside me.

I raised my hands slowly and raised them over my head. A person walked out of the bush next to me, pointing his ridiculous sword at me. "What business does a faceless person with no armor have with us?"

No armor? He must have not known what was under my overcoat. I was covered neck-to-toe in armor; it was just very thin crystal armor. Still strong enough to stop swords, arrows, and most forms of magic.

I sighed as I looked at more of the Forsworn walking out from their hiding places. There were about 20 of them. Good, I was glad that I had a full party here. I looked at my captor and said, "My name is Bloodstain. I'm a Shoutman. I am here to chat with my old buddy, Forsworn…the Shoutman."

My captor nodded and faced some of the people toward the entrance to the fort. "Go get Madanach."

I stood out there, hands on my head, waiting for Forsworn to walk out of the building. They called him Madanach. It was a name he gave himself when he became the leader of the Forsworn. Madanach. In all reality, he was Madanach's grandson. This was his legacy to lead, almost like a hierarchy. It seemed fitting that he continued the legacy by using his name as his own. I could understand it. There were some things that just needed to live on. If I were to die, I sure hope some new Shouter would throw on my bloodstained mask and called himself Bloodstain. As long as he lived by my virtues and fought to bring Skyrim back to life, I wouldn't care. He would keep us both alive in doing so. Madanach was only doing the same with his grandfather.

Finally, after a few minutes of standing out in the lightly falling snow, I could see Madanach walking out with two Forsworn behind him. He smiled and spread his arms out wide. "Put your hands down, old buddy. You're certainly not going to die here."

I lowered my arms and cracked my neck. It felt good to be able to move again. I could see that Madanach's life had not grown any easier than when it all started. His idea of a mask was the elk skeleton headdress he wore as a Forsworn. It was an appropriate mask to be sure. No one knew what his face looked like, not even me. Heck, I didn't really care. If he could disappear, better that no one could find him.

"What brings you out here anyway?" He asked. It was almost like he already knew the answer but still wanted to hear it anyway.

I shrugged and looked away from him. "I saw slaves today. They have children now. There is a settlement on a mile away. We could go there and free the slaves."

Madanach nodded, listening. "I thought about it. But…why are you here? You wouldn't come by here if you could just get the Stormcloaks to do it for you."

I sighed. "You haven't been listening to the news then. I guess that happens when you live out in the middle of nowhere, under a rock."

Some Forsworn started glaring angrily at me, but Madanach looked as patient as ever. "What news, Bloodstain?"

"Someone's killing the Shoutmen. It started with Ethereal. He was found fused to a wall. Then it was Captain Obvious. His ship blew up while it was out on sea. Someone said that the lighthouse guiding him in went silent for a few minutes. When the lighthouse was lit…his boat was gone and so was he. He was found a day later, his ship destroyed, his throat…slit. Then the murders moved on to Graybeard. Shouted right off of Mount Hrothgar. Then…me. I was pushed off of Mount Hrothgar by one of my soldiers. Someone wants us dead, Madanach. I feel you might be next."

Madanach nodded, scratching his chin in surprise. "But…why?"

I shrugged. "The Thalmor are getting a little…antsy if you ask me. There's a hit for us, you know. One million if I counted right. One million for my head, and one million for your head. That tells me one thing and one thing only. They fear something. There is something about us that makes them want us dead. It hasn't been this bad before, they usually left us in peace. Now…we're prey. I think it's because they've backed themselves into a corner. People are waking up. They are seeing that this is not the world they want. Now…it's time for change, old buddy. And we're it." I looked right at him and then at his buddies.

Madanach smiled. "So, you wish me to join you in taking Skyrim back from the Thalmor?"

I nodded. "Yes. I talked to some Nords about it earlier. They're awake now. They are fighting back. I heard the news about some 'farm boys' freeing slaves. I knew that it was their families that they were freeing but it still freedom." I said, grabbing my old friend's hand. "If we free the slaves and start an uprising, we can take back the Reach, as you grandfather has always wanted."

Madanach's eyes opened wide. He nodded and took my hand. "Together as one we Shout." He turned to his troops. "Today, we take back the Reach!"

I thought back to the dream I had earlier the day. The dream where I was standing next to Princess Cecilie and her army. I wish I could have been there back then, so I would not have to do this now. Too bad fate has other things in store for us than just living in the times we wanted. We lived in the times that we were needed. I was needed here, if only to be the only shining light in this world full of burning oil and dark machinery.

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_**Cearbhail**: Next chapter is just going to be one massive bloodshed. One scene for the slave camp, one scene for the aftermath of hte slave camp, and then... taking Markarth. Should be interesting, to say the least._


	5. Chapter 5

**Cearbhail:**_ Another exciting, thought provoking, awe inspiring, edition of the Shoutman. No...It will not become a comic series (however much I would like it to be). I suck at drawing (sigh), but I guess I will do with what I got and what I got is a wonderful way with words._

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_Bloodstain's journal, entry 4: 4e323, 1 Morningstar_

_Funny. Today's sort of a holiday. Today's the New Life Festival. The beginning of a new year. Do you know what the Shoutmen are doing to celebrate it? We're taking Reach from the Thalmor, freeing all the slaves, cleansing Markarth of all its sins, and then…preparing the Forsworn for the march up to Solitude. We've waited long enough. We're taking this country back._

_My partner is back. My good old friend Madanach has agreed to join me on the quest to free Skyrim from our elven overlords who seek to rule us. It makes me think about how all this started in the first place. I'm sure there are plenty of multi-dimensional paradoxes, where things happened differently. I am certain that somewhere this never happened, that our history did not end up as their history. But history still repeats regardless of the smaller details. I'm sure in some dimensions there was no Aedra War, or anything of the sort. But I bet that the Thalmor still existed. I bet that the Thalmor have always planned to exist, but only finding other ways to claim their control. I bet that the Dragonborn could have ended up as anything else, maybe even a dog….but in our time is was Asger. Some other time it could have ended up being some other Nord. Maybe his name was Merek or something. I wouldn't know._

_And I bet that in certain dimensions…all of us don't exist. If someone were to change the vibrational frequency of the crystal ball, they'd probably see someone else playing their own destiny at the same game, all fighting the same quests to achieve the same ultimate goal. That does not truly matter though. We cannot affect all futures, but we can affect our own. We can save our own. Let all the non-believers do what they do best…ignore our story, call us out…but we'll still be here. Whatever facts the non-believers believe, they don't know our stories, what happened to us, what happened to our world. So, I stare down at those innocent bystanders who do not have a lick of understanding for our roles or how we will shape our lives. Let them continue to criticize us as we do what we know is right. We'll still be fighting regardless of what they say. This is our dimension and this is our fight._

_Anyway, none of that matters. I've just been brain-racked, thinking of how things could have been different. Maybe if something had happened to where all the great heroes of our dimension were able to gather up for the rise of the Aldmeri Takeover, my history would be a little different. Maybe I could grow up in a time without war, in a new dimension that would be created from a time-lapse given off of an elder scroll. If only we knew someone who had such a device, since all were destroyed by the Thalmor during the purge. If only…_

_I will not let my voice die in the wind. I have seen the light, it beckons me. Even if I die, my voice will live on. This journal itself will be given to someone I can trust to guard it when the time is right. If I die, my word will still remain and the fight will continue as it always has. Freedom is an idea…it cannot be killed, even if I am. So, for anyone who reads this journal, remember the 1st of Morningstar, a gloomy Freedas during 4e323. If you can see what one man can do on a day like this…imagine what you can do. Imagine what all of us can do._

_Bloodstain…_

…

The rain clouds gathered behind us, covering the sky in a never-ending stretch of darkness. Lightning flashed from behind, covering the sounds of our approach. The wind blew in our favor, hitting our backs as we all marched up the hill to the crest of the slave encampment. I made sure that I was the first one to walk up to the top so that my face would be the first one to be cast down upon the onlookers. And in fact, they were all looking. They were looking up at the gathering clouds, at the lightning that threatened to made them work in the blistering ice-rain. No one wanted that. No one wanted to be covered with a sheet of ice.

So, when I walked up to the mountain and looked down at the growing crowd of faces, they all looked up at me. There, toward the middle of the pack, being whipped by a Thalmor dog, was the little boy I saw earlier. His broken face looked up at me and I saw his face light up into a bright smile. I was reminded of how I was a match that would strike the candles of the world. And right now, I just struck a large bonfire. By the end of the night, the whole Reach would be aflame. Metaphorically, of course. I don't plan on burning the land, just 'cleansing' it of any Thalmor presence, and of course rallying the people to stand up for themselves again. We start with Skyrim, and then we take back the world. The Thalmor will be defeated, of that I am sure.

I looked back at Madanach, who stood beside me. He marched up to stand by my side. He looked down at the large camp and smiled. "I hear you guys have been looking for us. Well…here we are."

"Get them!" The Thalmor overlord screamed as he stood up and grabbed his hand-cannon.

I wasted no time as I jumped from the top of the fill. My coat flapped through the thick air as I free-fell to the lowest ground. As I did, I calculated the number of opponents that I would be facing against. I counted six that were immediately within my range. Hmm…I wondered what weapons I had. I had my dagger and…my magic. I guess those would have to do.

"Fire!" Madanach called to his Forsworn. They all rose around the entire fill, bringing bows aiming down at us all. I chose to free-fall down here to keep everyone distracted. I knew that there was a chance that I could die, but I was ok with that. I could no longer live in a world owned by disease and whores. I would rather die doing what Shoutmen do than live under this tyranny anymore.

Arrows streaked past me as I landed on the ground. I felt blood wash over me, covering my mask in a fresh layer. Just as I stood to fight, drawing my dagger…the ice-rain started drizzling down on us. It started with a few drops but then it started to fall like shards of razor. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't blame them for running, but the Thalmor did not deserve to run.

I looked at the prisoners, who shivered in their ragged clothes, being pelted by the ice-rain. I raised my hand to my mouth, using my magicka to amplify my voice. "The Shoutmen have come to free you. Return to your caves and await us to finish with your captors."

The slaves looked at the Thalmor for answers, which no one responded. We were all just standing in the rain now, stuck in a standstill. None of us were watching the arrows falling from the sky. The arrows that no one even knew was coming. As far as they knew…it was only me right now. How come no one knew? Because everyone was watching me and only the top layer of the slave encampment was dead.

I spread my arms out wide, offering someone to attack me. Just as a Thalmor came walking in, his whip raised up above his head…an arrow found a nice resting place in his neck. He stumbled forward, grabbing his throat in surprise. He fell to his knees, trying to breathe. I just walked past him. There was no more need to worry about him. I still had a hundred more of these baddies to worry about. I did not have to worry for long, though. My archers had the high ground and even though there only twenty of them, they could take out fifty before they could march up the pit to face them. That left me with the other fifty.

I watched in stoic silence as more arrows found some comforting bodies to lie within. That was the first wave. By now the Thalmor were taking in notice at the large surrounding force of Forsworn gathering around them. For years the Thalmor ruled with a silent fist, quietly overtaking enemies using anyone else as their pawns. Years of complacent paranoia made them forgetful of their surroundings, putting all their trust in outside mercenaries and paid-off officials. This type of ambush they had long forgotten about, after all it had been over 200 years since the last time they had a war like this.

I warmly sighed with a content smile. It felt good to be doing something so grand. That was the thought running through my head as I cut through two Thalmor slave runners. They had the gall to face me as I marched up to the overlord. He was still standing in his spot, holding the hand-cannon, aiming it right at me. I wish he had the stones to fire it. I wanted all the more reason to put the fear in him.

As I came closer, another of his lackeys tried to get close to me. He ran up to me, a dagger flashing through his sleeve and over to me. I stepped towards him and punched the hand with the dagger. He hand rocked back and he looked confused for a second. I stepped closer again, slashing with my own dagger. My dagger ripped through his leg before he even knew what was going on. He looked down but that was his mistake. My other hand came up to his throat, snapping. He fell backwards, grabbing his throat in gurgling pain. I ended our fight with a boot to his face. All the while I was looking up at the ring leader, who looked down at me with scornful eyes.

"Bloodstain, I will give you this one chance to surrender to us peacefully." He said at me as he leveled his hand-cannon at me. The look in his eyes betrayed his fear.

I stepped forward, spreading my arms out welcomingly. I looked around. Thalmor were falling left and right as the Forsworn snipers nailed them as they tried to climb up the muddy hillsides. They were almost already defeated. The slaves continued to lie there in the falling ice-rain, lost and confused as to what was going to become of them.

I looked back at the overlord. I chuckled and shook my head, making a point of taking off my hat and rubbing a gloved hand over my masked head. I looked up at him and said, "You must be blinder than a man wearing a full mask to not see what is going on around you." I said to him.

He started glancing around at his comrades. "This only a setback, Bloodstain. The Aldmeri Dominion will find these slaves and make sure to punish them and anyone related to them for this violation of slave camp protocol. I thought this would have sunk into your head by now. These slaves only exist because or your actions, Bloodstain. You put them here by being what you are. They live this punishment for your neglect to follow our rules. This is your blood on the ground, you Shouting bastard, not ours."

I looked around at their faces, taking in every single one of them. I nodded and looked back up at the overlord. I spread my arms out and said, "Then spread my blood everywhere. Let me pay the price for my failure."

He pulled the trigger and the lead round found its way into my jacket. I jerked back for a second. As soon as the pulsing pain in my chest stopped and I was able to catch my breath, I looked back up at him. "Gonna take more than that to put me down." I said. I brought my hands up to my mouth and took a deep breath in. "_YOOOLLL…"_

"No…don't do it." The overlord said. He took the hand-cannon off of me and aimed it at the child I noticed earlier. "If you do, I swear I'll blow his face off."

I smiled. "You know that if you do…I'll still kill you." I replied back.

He looked mildly surprised but his finger started twitching towards the trigger.

"_WULD!" _I screamed into my left hand. My right hand was already coming up into a combative slash as I reappeared behind the Thalmor agent. I could feel blood on the blade, blood on my face. I turned around to see the Thalmor glancing wide-eyed at his arm. Well…lack of arm. There was barely enough coming off of the shoulder to count as much.

The Thalmor screamed in horror, falling off of his feet and onto the ground. He reached for his bloody stump, trying frantically to feed some Restoration magic into the wound. As he was doing so, I was walking up to him. I stopped as my boots came inches from his head. He looked up at me, his eyes narrowed and fearful.

"No, please…don't." He cried, looking up at me.

I tilted my head to the side, as I was very accustomed to doing these days. "I wonder how many slaves said the same thing before you killed them as well." I said as I reached down and took the hand-cannon from his severed arm. I brought the cannon to his head. "I wonder how many slaves had to look at the cannon as you do now, wondering when you would pull the trigger, what they would feel, or…what would come after they died. Do you think you'll see Talos, or just your own elven gods? Eight of them? What about the ninth? Think he'll take highly to you pissing on his grave, his temples….his people?"

The Thalmor looked angry, but his face was flushing due to blood lose. "Just do it already, you Nord bastard." He spat at me.

I glanced at the hand-cannon and tossed it aside. "Not my place to punish you." I looked over to the slaves. "It's theirs." I could see the look in their eyes. Wide and fearful. I walked away from the downed Thalmor and walked over towards them. "You are free now. The Shoutmen are taking back the Reach and driving the Thalmor out."

I heard a loud gunshot and I felt a heavy round bounce off my shoulder plate. I glanced back at the Thalmor and said, "Do I have to take your other arm as well?"

He did not answer. His eyes became lifeless and his body became limp. He used whatever was left of his strength to kill me. It failed. I looked back at the slaves and said, "I remind you…you are all free. Return to your homes, return to your families. Remember what it means to be free. I am a Shoutman and I have neglected my duties for too long. It is time that I remind the Aldmeri Dominion the strength of our spirit. It is time we show these elves what Nords can do. I have already started a resistance. They fight to free slaves such as yourselves. If you wish, you may join us in our fight to end the Thalmor threat in our country, or you may return home. You may not, however, stay here and mine for these bastards."

The slaves continued to look at me with blank looks. They started looking around at each other, finally taking in what was going on. One of the miners looked down at his pickaxe and dropped it in the mud. He smiled at the idea of never having to pick it up and looked at his fellow slaves. One by one, the slaves started dropping their axes, all looking up at me with bright eyes. Yes, most of these slaves may have been Khajiit or Argonians and only the few 30% were Nords or Bretons, but today they were all equal. They were all free.

I turned to Madanach, who was coming up to see me. I nodded to him and said, "Now…let's get over to Markarth."

* * *

_**Cearbhail**: Ok, so let me know what you thought about it. What could have been better, what any of you would like to see in the coming chapters. I make no promises. If someone wants to see a dancing monkey... I might do that. If someone wants to see Bloodstain's head explode... no._


	6. Chapter 6

**Cearbhail:**_ Yay! The newest edition of the Shoutmen! Took me a while, but I finally got it to what I wanted out of it. Well, anyway, I wont' ruin it for you. Enjoy._

* * *

_Bloodstain's journal, entry 4: 4e323, 1 Morningstar (18:34)_

_Well, what can I say? The raid on the slave camp went better than expected. Most of the slaves are more than content to run away from any responsibility to fight. It took all my ability to convince half of them to fight alongside us. We needed as much help as we could get to march up to Solitude and expect an equal fight. Although this has become a war, I must not forget what had started the whole conflict. I was trying to learn why the Shoutmen have become targets for the Thalmor. This particular camp had plenty of secrets to tell. The Thalmor are after Dwemer tech. Not to mention all the notes I found in the ringleader's hut. He had notes written down about how to create black soul gems and how to capture humanoid soils inside of them._

_This plot was becoming sicker than I thought. Was this why the Shoutmen were dying? Was it because the Thalmor are collecting souls? I do not know for certain, but I will find out. We march onto Markarth tonight and tonight…we'll make her spread her legs open for us. Markarth's government will become our bitch and will fall to our rule. Well…not our rule. The people's rule. It's a sad thing, though. Markarth is a cesspool, filled with corrupt business types who run underground cage fights, prostitute rings, and slave gambling. I'm afraid that once we return the power to those types that the town will only get worse. Maybe I can do something to break these slaughterfish from their power._

_I am happy to report that one missing Shoutmen has been located. I found an encrypted report in the slave master's quarters. The report had a coded message, one that I cracked within a couple minutes of studying it with magic. The title was…Summoner. That was the name of one of the younger first generation of Shoutmen. According to the report, she's alive. Funny, I thought she had died during the purge. She was the Seer's protégé. Older than most of us, but still young enough to fight back. It appears that she has two kids…both Shouters. Both Shoutmen by extension. According to the report, Summoner was last spotted in an old Orc Stronghold: Mor Khazgur. There was an extended order to send someone to go find out if she was still there. Since the report was dated yesterday…I'm guessing no one has gone over to find her yet. I'm heading up there after we take Markarth. If Summoner is alive…the only person who knew Princess Cecilie…I want to know about it. If she can still hold a sword and swing it as well, or even Shout…I'll die happy._

_Bloodstain…._

…

I looked up at the stables of Markarth, already feeling the eyes of the world upon me and my soldiers as we silently marched. I do not care if it was still pouring ice rain. I do not care if lightning flashed and thunder rolled. I do not care because even with all that distraction, there was no way you could miss us. We shouted to the heavens, we shouted to our enemies, and we shouted to each other. As we quietly marched up to Markarth, our voices lit up the sky: Madanach and I. He had the ability to control the weather so he Shouted as loud as he could. I could imitate any Shout I wanted, that's what made me special. I was the only Shoutman who could master every Shout…because I wasn't a true Shouter. My magicka and failed Dragonborn blood gave me the ability to fake the Thu'um. Even so, I was good enough to be a Shoutman.

I looked back at the assortment of slaves and murderers. Faces of non-Nords were too well known in this group. The Forsworn were nothing more than Bretons who were killed and enslaved by their Nord conquerors. They were kicked out of their own land just because the Nords were stronger for a couple minutes. Now, they lived in secret; committing to guerrilla warfare and acts of terrorism to win their land back. It was a futile struggle for more than a century. It never got any better, it never gained any ground. It was nothing more than a continuing wound that would not stop bleeding. The result was a scar on the land and on the minds of those who lived here. Paranoia was the keyword in this land, because if you looked the wrong way, you might not notice the person bringing his knife out.

Then you had the slaves. The only ones who joined me now were what remained of the Khajiits and Argonians within the whole land. Only twenty of them. That was enough, though. I could not help but laugh at the fact that slaves and forsaken natives were going to be the ones to save the Nords from their enslavement. I laughed at the fact that not a single Nord stood by…not a single one picked up an axe to fight alongside us. Only the cats…and the lizards had enough heart to fight back. That just shows what the Thalmor accomplished. They accomplished the impossible…to pacify a Nord on his homeland.

With the twenty Forsworn, that made forty capable warriors. With those forty warriors, myself, and Madanach, we had enough men to conquer all of Skyrim, I was sure. The continually growing riots inside Whiterun, Riften, and Windhelm were enough to split up the Aldmeri Dominion's riot guards. Their army was spread thin, thin enough that we could cut right through to the heart: Solitude. But first, we still had to deal with this bloodstain first. My army was going to flow right into this wound and sew it up once and for all. I did not care for the blood feud between the Nords and Bretons, I only wanted this land to be free again. So, in a way, I was making it free. The Bretons lived here in peace before they were killed and kicked out of their lands. Now, we were setting the score right. We were giving them their own freedom back, while returning ours to us.

I sighed as I looked down at my armored boots. Was it going to be enough, though? What if we took Skyrim? What would happen next? The other lands were still heavily controlled by the Aldmeri Dominion. If we took this land, we would be welcoming hell. Our land would glow with an unnatural light, a light that would blast to all the darkness of the world. And that darkness would want us to be snuffed out, to fall back in line with everyone else.

I shook my head as I reached for my sword. I could not begin to doubt myself now. Everyone would see our light and everyone would hear us Shout. Skyrim was just the beginning for once we took this land back, we would take the rest back as well. The Aldmeri Dominion would be extinguished like any other slime that rose to power. Just like how the mighty Empire fell to _one_ cult of wrist cutters, this elven empire would be taken by an army of crazy murderers and disgruntled slaves.

I turned around to face my men. They stood ready, shouting through the rain as we approached the stables. I could see the archers already lining up to watch us. Guards…still Nords but they might as well been elves for all I cared. They did not fight for Skyrim's freedom, only to serve their new lords so that their families did not end up in the camps around Tamriel. I pitied them…it was not their fault that they had to die. It still did not have to be so.

I walked away from my army, asking them to hold off for a few seconds. The archers watched as I approached and I saw as the lightning flashed overhead that they could see my mask. Their bows laxed at seeing who I was, but it was not because they respected me. It was because they feared me. I showed my hands to show them that I was currently unarmed. That didn't matter. I was still a Shoutman, always dangerous. They continued to watch me up until I stopped and yelled, "You have one chance to live. Lay down your bows and you will witness Skyrim come back to the Nords." I looked back at my army. "These foreigners and the forgotten are fighting for your lands. Do you wish to stop us? Or do you wish to join us instead? Either way we're marching through to the capital and killing your elven overlord."

One of the guards looked around and slowly started releasing his arrow. He looked down as he placed the bow on the ground. He nodded to me and lied down on the ground. His buddies looked unsure if they should kill him or kill me first. I tilted my head to the side. "That's one. Anyone else feel like joining him? Or would you rather join the elves in Oblivion?"

The other guards all placed their weapons on the ground, leaving us to freely march our way up to the doorway. I looked back at my troops and said, "Tie them up. We'll release them once our fight is over." I looked ahead to the gate. There was no one in our way. Today was shaping up to be a good day after all. We just succeeded in convincing some guards that this was not their fight…it was the elves.

I smiled through my mask as Madanach and I marched up to the gate to the town, unopposed and welcomed. Even as we opened the gates, the eyes of the city fell upon us like a wave of fear and expectance. Guards lined the streets, weapons up, looking at us like they expected a war. Archers on top of buildings looked down at us…just Madanach and me. A guard, Nord by blood, wearing the gold and blue armor of the Thalmor Elite Guard walked up to us, his mouth contorted into some weird smile. He looked at us like he had searched his whole life to find us and we had just walked right into the palms of his hands.

I looked at the other guards. Rain fell upon us all like a heavy sleet, freezing at the touch of our skin. In the back of my mind, I was wondering how the unclothed Argonians were doing. They did not have the protection everyone else had when it came to cold weather and ice. They had to be freezing to death. Since it was their lives on the line, I guess it was a die-die situation for them. I guess it's just the method of dying that's left to be chosen. Death by enslavement, or death by freezing in the rain while fighting to obtain freedom. Which would you choose? I don't know about you, but I'd choose the latter. Freedom appeals to me, appeals to everyone. People die for it…as will we all someday.

I clenched my fist, that's the thing, isn't it? People always die. Everyone dies. It cannot be avoided. All we can do is live a great life, something worth dying for. If we have to die someday, why not make it the most memorable death possible? Otherwise, what's the alternative? Taking a last breath in some bed, grabbing the hand of your children, seeing their eyes tear up…only to reflect about the life you had? What would anyone see in that? Some might consider the children that they raised, the choices that they made to make those children's dreams a reality.

Remembering the child I saw earlier, the way his eyes lit up on his face when he saw me…I could easily understand that feeling. What we did was for everyone. There was no going back now. I was fully committed to this war. The only reason why is because while I was contemplating the past, I had already snapped the guard captain's forearm, thrown a dagger into another guard's throat, and used the guard captain to stop the archer's onslaught against me.

Madanach was easily just as fast as I was. True to his calling, he was using two Forsworn swords, hacking his way through the guards like they were butter. As we started killing guards, it led to the slaves running into the town, grabbing the guard's armor and weapons, as well as coin. They were free now and they were the new guards once we were done with this town. The Forsworn lined the walls, shooting arrows down like rainfall. The town's guards could barely see well enough to see the arrows as they fell from the skies, planting themselves in exposed places. It was great to have such a distracting force helping us as we continued through the town.

I paused to look at the faces of the people screaming as we marched through the streets. Prostitutes and gamblers all looked for places to hide, as if we were going to kill them all. Moon sugar flew in the air as drugies saw us approach. Their red eyes glazed over, smiling, but still fearful of whatever it was that they were hallucinating. I wish I could have lost my mind to such a poison, but then it would be nothing more than hiding from reality. I looked on to see the Forsworn jumping across the upper levels, moving ever-so closer to the door that led to the Understone Keep.

I quickly sped up my pace, only to be confronted by two guards. They came out of the alley, thrusting their swords out at me. The sword traveled through my coat and was welcomed by the crystal plate that I wore for protection. The guard looked puzzled before I brought my hand up to my mouth.

"_YOL!_" I shouted. Fire streaked out of my mouth. The guards had half a second to take in what was about to happen to them. It wasn't even a full second before the giant ball of fire washed over them, taking their skin off, leaving nothing behind but a charred sack of muscle. The fireball continued on, setting a nearby house on fire. It punched through some of oil-stricken blocks, bursting into a larger flame that traveled up. Because of the high oil content in the air…more of it exploded. Fire reached over the sky like a blanket, bits of fire raining down now, catching more oil-stained buildings on fire.

I nodded in appreciation. I had single-handedly destroyed the town. I shrugged as I sheathed my weapon and continued on. Seconds later, I heard the oil refinery explode into a massive flame. I nodded again, happy that it was raining ice water. Soon enough the oil fire would spread and die out. Once all the oil was gone, there would be nothing more to keep it lit. Once all the oil was gone…this town would have to go back to using its previous economy raiser…silver.

I marched through the still flaming streets, happy that I wore fireproof everything. Enchantment was a wonderful thing if you knew what you were doing soon. Just looking at how the buildings were now falling down, people screaming as they ran for the gates, I knew that this town would change for the better. I doubted that Madanach would want this town anymore because of the bloodstained walls, the ruined buildings that were destroyed by oil and acid fumes. With this town burnt to ashes, he could raise a whole new city, one of his liking. I could not have planned this, but I could not have chosen a better result. I feared that crime would continue here as it did while under Thalmor ruling, but seeing the people scream as they ran away from the growing fires, I knew that all the spineless twats and crime lords would not stay here any longer. There was no profit, no chance of their life here anymore. And…it was for the better of this town. It needed its own purge…and to be cleansed in fire? Heh…that was just a bonus on my front.

I finally reached the gate and shoved it open. I could see all the Forsworn spread out, taking aim as Madanach waited for me by the entrance. I took a second to look at what was in front of me. Madanach waited patiently for me to come up to him, while a Thalmor agent stood up at the top of the staircase, dressed in his little dark robes that were meant to look intimidating. To be honest, it made him look like a regal vampire wannabe. He waited patiently at the top of the staircase, Thalmor soldiers dressed in their fancy elven armor, looking down at me as I walked into the room.

I nodded to Madanach and said, "What's going on? Why haven't you killed him yet?"

Madanach smiled. That was never a good sign of anything. "I saw the town on fire. The Thalmor has given up. He says that he won't fight for a burnt rat-hole." He pulled me in closer and suspicion rolled through my bones. I did not like where any of this was going. "He thinks we'll let him leave. I'll fire on the left, you fire on the right and my archers will take him out."

I shook my head. "No…we need him alive…for now. I want answers before he dies."

Madanach nodded. "Ok…even better. Let's do this."

We walked up to the staircase, the Thalmor all aiming their arrows at us, and then glancing at the Forsworn archers surrounding them. They knew that there was no walking out of this alive if we didn't allow it. This was a last minute surrender for the Thalmor slime. I should have suspected this and to be honest, I did.

The leader, with his head aimed so high I could count his nose hairs, majestically stepped down the stairs in a methodical way, trying to show us that he had the upper hand. It was like he did not even consider the fact that we would not let him leave…well…he was about to get something else instead. He clapped in a slow and sarcastic way, smiling at us as he did so. "Congratulations on…claiming your…" He glanced out the door, his mouth twitching in disgust. "town…" He nodded to me. "Ah…Bloodstain…the Nord mastermind detective war machine. I've heard so much about your…" He glanced back out the door. "methods of warfare."

I forced a chuckle through my mask and tipped my hat to him. "And you…" I started. "Sorry, don't know your name."

He scoffed like the very idea was impossible. "I am Chancellor Niirka. I am a high general for the Aldmeri Dominion. I run the oil lines for all operations. As such…I am a very wealthy person and I can…say…pay you to let me walk out this room…no strings attached, I might add. I don't plan on returning to this gods forsaken sight. All the oil has been destroyed, I can see. That is ok, I won't penalize you for desecration of Aldmeri resources, just relocate to my back-up facility. I'm sure you understand just how busy I am."

I nodded and looked back through the door. "That fire was caused by all your oil fumes. Then your factory exploded. If…and I'm just guessing at this." I took off my hat and started scratching my head in confusion. "If your oil pipe…caught fire…like the rest of the town…" I shrugged. "Wouldn't the fire spread through the entire line, consuming more oil until there was no more oil to be burnt. And since…" I started laughing as I placed my hat back on my head. "all the lines are connected to this line…and all the factories as well…" I looked at him, waiting for him to piece together what I was implying.

His smug smile brushed off his face. "You wouldn't dare do such a thing. That…that oil is sacred. It runs everything. If you destroyed it…the world would blow up. Worse, it would never recover from such a loss."

I smiled through my mask. I looked at Madanach, signaling that I was ready. We spun past one another, Shouting, "_YOL_!" Our fires streaked over the elven archers before they could even respond. Their corpses fell to the ground, leaving the great Chancellor Niirka speechless as he looked around.

I reached up, grabbed the 'good' chancellor by his throat and pulled him to the ground. I nodded to him and said, "Not only would I do it…but I will…unless you tell me everything I want to know."

Then…he began to sing.

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_**Cearbhail**: No...I will not be posting what Bloodstain does to him to make him sing even louder. You will learn everything he says through the journal entry. Almost done. About another four/five chapters left. Sweet._


	7. Chapter 7

**Cearbhail:**_ Another new chapter of the Shoutmen. Hope you enjoy it._

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_Bloodstain's journal, entry 5, 3 Morningstar (06:12)_

_The Thalmor skeever had some interesting things to say to me. The research into black soul gems, the disappearance of Shoutmen, the continued cliché of how I will die because I'm getting myself in deeper than I can afford, blah blah blah. Well, it doesn't matter what he thinks anymore, he's nothing more than a giant stain of the wall where Madanach now sits. Madanach has become the new Jarl of Markarth, the first Jarl we've had in…about 100 years in fact. Sure, you can consider Jarl Stormcloak as the only remaining Jarl, but with no city to govern…how can he truly be a Jarl? No, he's just the only surviving heir to his family's throne and one of us as well. Since he can Shout, he's a Shoutman. With me, Madanach, and the mysterious Summoner, that makes at least four._

_Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that, didn't I? My new favorite Thalmor toy had something to say about her. Apparently, I'm not the only one looking for her. She's on the list of those who need to die as well. I'm on my way to find her. She's held up in some deserted Orc stronghold (if she's still alive). My Thalmor toy didn't tell me anything else about her, no matter how hard I pulled the string in his back. I accidentally broke it and I had to throw the toy away._

_Anyway, once I find the Summoner, or whatever's left of her, I have to send a letter back to Madanach, telling him to be ready for war. He's preparing his town right now for war, as well as cleaning it up for the new residents. I bet it will look a lot better soon enough with the Reachmen back in charge. They are no longer Forsworn, but Reachmen. And Reachman is now their Shouting leader._

_Bloodstain…_

…

The ground felt cold underneath my feet. Snow was up to my knees and barely shifted as I continued to clamber through the thick frozen layer of snow. I wish I knew a Shout that would help with this, but since the skies were clear, there was nothing I could do.

I looked ahead, seeing the rotten wooden spikes barely rising out of the giant wall of snow. With no Orcs to care for their home, the snow just kept building and building until the entire town was frozen under snow. It was a sad thing, all this lost culture. It was like delving into a Dwemer ruin, seeing what they built, their armor, yet…no trace of them. I expected to find the same here; nothing but old Orcish armor and swords, maybe some skeletons as well.

I walked up to the rotten staves of wood just barely jettisoning out of the ground, glancing down at them. 100 years ago, this used to be the top of their protective walls, standing over 20 feet tall, archers standing over edge, looking down at anyone approaching. This was one of the first strongholds to be attacked. Whatever Orcs that did not die were captured and turned into the first breed of Shouters, the Thalmor Inquisitors. The High Elves thought it was an interesting experiment, using the blood of the Dovahkiin to create more Dragonborns. Their first experiments were failures, but when they heard that the College of Winterhold had already done the same and found a workable serum…you can guess what happened. The Thalmor feared more Nords learning how to Shout, and with the rise of dragons and Blades, it led to war. Everyone saw it coming eventually, but when it came, it came down like a virus.

No, seriously, it came down as a virus. The Thalmor had created a biological weapon that targeted humans. The first place hit was Dawnstar, to cut a straight path to Windhelm. Once Windhelm was destroyed, we had lost all hope. But the airborne virus could not survive in our cold temperatures for too long and died off. It was only good for a day or two. After that, the Thalmor resigned to releasing their new Orc Shouters on the Holds. The Great Purge of Skyrim had started. The Companions fought at their best, but they ended up as fur capes for the Inquisitors. Then the Jarls were killed in front of their people. The Inquisitors just walked up to them and Shouted everyone apart. It was amazing that anyone survived.

The only reason we did was because the first Shoutman, the Seer, had started fighting back. She and her team of Dragonborns forced the Thalmor to fall back a little at a time, drawing the war into a quiet standstill again. Since the Thalmor still had the Inquisitors on their side, they thought that they would win. Then…the Inquisitors started dying off. Their blood was no longer staying contained within their bodies and they started getting sick, bleeding out the eyes. With the Inquisitors dead, the Thalmor acted fast. They killed the King of Skyrim, the Queen as well. The strongest wizards marched up to Solitude, killing the Crimson Blades, the newest guild of crystal shamans. Then…they killed the Seer. She had only enough time to get the rest of her team, the Shoutmen, out of the palace before she died. The Thalmor took over Skyrim, the Shoutmen went underground, and everything went silent for a few years. Then…we ended up where I was standing now…still in this silent rut, waiting for the Thalmor to finish us off. Well…it was beginning.

I shook my head as I stepped over the wooden barrier. A clean sheet of ice caught my foot, making me lose my grip on the ground. I was suddenly pulled off my feet, landing hard on my back, and sliding down the very steep incline to the ground. I landed on a soft patch of frozen snow, my breath forced out of my lungs as I hit the ground. I stood up, shaking my head and brushing snow off my hat. I looked up at the sheet of ice that I had slid down. I could see the outlines of the wooden staves still shooting up into the air. The wind had blown all that snow up against the wooden poles on the other side, but not this one. I was now in a giant hole, just barely covered in snow at all. I could see everything that had once been here.

I could see the bloodstained snow and ice. Orcs had blue blood, unlike the rest of us, who had red blood. Well…high and dark elves both had purple blood. I looked around at the frozen bodies hidden underneath the thick sheet of ice covering. I could see the swords still sticking up, clenched in the hands of the Orcs, whose faces were contorted in an expression of sheer anger and war. I bent down to look at their faces. I had never seen an Orc before and I always wondered what they looked like. They were extinct, as far as I knew. Dark green heads, almost gray, lockjaw with fangs sticking up, making them look slightly intimidating and imposing. I would say that they were huge, but they looked no bigger than I did. I heard stories that Orcs were huge imposing barbarians that specialized in mercenary work as brute force. Looking down at the bodies I saw here, I didn't see that. I saw skinny arms but were complemented by sharp eyes and long pointy nails.

"Got a fetish for frozen Orc women?"

I looked up from the frozen body to see someone dressed in a dark blue cloak with a large shawl pulled over the head, hiding the face from me. The person stood near the old forge, standing over the rack of frozen weapons.

I rose from my crouch, taking my hat off, scratching the top of my masked head. "That's a woman? I find that hard to believe." I said as I glanced back down at what I thought was a man. If that was a woman, I could barely imagine just how imposing the men looked.

I looked back up at the masked figure standing near the weapons rack. I placed my hat back on my head and said, "I'm sure I do not need to tell you who I am or what I want."

The hooded figure nodded and grabbed their cloak. I could see two hands sticking out. With a flick of the wrists, two portals quickly opened, shooting two Daedric longswords out. The hooded summoner grabbed the summoned swords and started running over to me. I had only enough time to reach into my jacket and pull out my dagger before the hooded figure was in my face, slashing at me.

I jumped back, barely evading the dual slash. I brought my dagger into a backhand stance and said, "Summoner, I'm not here to hurt you. It's me, Bloodstain."

The figure slashed again, almost catching me by the ear as I ducked my head away. "I don't know who you've been talking to, but the Summoner is dead." She spun around me, slashing with her two swords at my back. "And I've never heard of Bloodstain." I could feel my crystal armor catch the slashes.

I turned around, catching one of her blades with my knife. I spun the sword around, pinning it against my armored arm, and yanked it away from her. I brought the opposite arm against her throat and slammed her. I heard her gargle for a second before stepping back, grabbing her own throat. I took this time to lower down and sweep her. I caught one foot and her other slipped on some loose ice. She was taken off her feet while I was spinning back around to face her. When she landed on her back, I was already spinning on top of her, pinning both arms down, and settling myself on top, keeping her down on the ice.

"FUS!" I breathed lightly, enough magicka enforced that a slight breeze threw the cloak off her head. Looking down at me was a young woman with black hair and hazel eyes. I was stunned for a second…it looked a lot like the Seer from the dreams I had. The only difference was that this woman was a little older and did not have white eyes. Her eyes were darker and were not glazed over.

She looked very defensively at me, struggling to break my hold on her arms. She finally exhaled in defeat and looked up at me, her eyes burning into me. "Well?" She said, shrugging. "Are you going to get off me or get off on me?"

Her question stuck in my head for a second, making me think exactly what she was asking. Then, it became clear what she thought I was thinking, so I shook my head. "Neither. You're dangerous and I have you pinned. Now…where's the Summoner?"

"She's dead, like I said. Now…let me go." She started struggling.

"I don't believe you. I found a Thalmor encoded message saying that they found her. Now…if I don't get to her first, more will come and kill her. Do you want that?" I said, pulling her back. I leaned down, saying, "I'm a Shoutman and I'm taking Skyrim back. I need as much help as I can get. The Summoner is a very strong Shoutman and I need her help."

The girl rolled her eyes and groaned. "She's DEAD. Did you not hear me the first six times I said it? She was old; she passed away three months ago." She shook her head and said, "Think about it, ice-brain. The war started 100 years ago. It was only three years before they made it to Solitude. Summoner was only a year old at that time. Then Solitude was taken, the first Shoutman was killed, the rest retreating away with her in a cradle. That means…she is at least 96 years old today. She passed away from old age."

I nodded. "Ok, I get that. So, who are you?" I had a good idea of who she was and I sure hoped I was right.

"I'm her granddaughter. I am the new Summoner now." She said, smiling, turning her head away.

I nodded to her and said, "Ok, if I get up, are you going to attack me?" She shook her head so I quickly let go of her hands, waiting for her to lash out. I rose from her and she pushed herself out from underneath me.

She finally stood up and brushed the snow off her cloak. She looked over at me, trying to look through my mask, I know. She finally smiled and said, "So? You're really a Shoutman?"

I nodded. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead. Thalmor found them." She responded.

"Brothers or sisters?" I asked her.

"I was the only one. Grandma took care of me my whole life." Summoner said, rubbing her arm. She smiled at me, giving me something of a toothy grin. "And I was beginning to get a little worried about what I was going to do. I mean…I can't live here forever." She gestured around the old stronghold.

I sighed as I looked at her. "I can see that you do know how to summon weapons, probably armor as well, but can you Shout? Also, what else can you summon?"

She crossed her arms and said, "Shout? I'm not Dragonborn. And as for summoning: I can summon anything. I can summon atronachs as well as manifesting undead creatures. I can create armor on myself, you, some wandering dog, or I can get rid of an enemy's weapon and armor. I was taught everything from my grandmother."

"Everything but Shouting, it appears." I replied. I looked at her and said, "However, you are the Summoner's granddaughter, so I can't just leave you here." I waved for her to follow me. "Follow me. I'll brief you on what we're doing and why you're Dragonborn."

I started walking away and the girl started following behind me. "So, you think I have dragon blood then?"

I nodded as we came up to the sheer wall of ice. "Yes. It started off a just one exposed case of dragon blood, belonging to the original Dovahkiin, the one who killed Alduin. The wizards at the College of Winterhold managed to isolate that dragon blood gene, the thing that allowed someone to be Dragonborn. Then they found a way to get that gene to attach to very specific gene holders. Once the dragon blood was attached, it was found to be passed down genetically. Sure, it grew weaker and weaker with each generation but that was because it became a dormant gene."

I Shouted my Fire Breath at the sheet of ice, melting it down. I reached at Summoner to take my hand. She walked up to me and took my hand. "Ok, so I have dragon blood, but it's just too weak for me to use."

"_BO…SU_!" I shouted into my other hand as I pushed off the ground, throwing us both over the wooden staves. I landed gently on the ground with Summoner squeezing as tightly as she could onto me. I looked over at her, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"How? That was at least 20 feet!" She screamed over my ear, making me cringe back.

I sighed and pushed her off of me. "Easy. Learn dragon words, learn to project them into a Thu'um. I know the whole language. I know familiar shouts and unknown ones. The ones I just shouted were 'bo' and 'su'. Bo means fly, su means air. So, using those words and jumping allows me to fly through the air easier, making this 20 foot leap easy." I nodded to the giant field of snow in front of us. I could see the still rising overhead of us. "We need to head east to Solitude. There we will find the Aldmeri Dominion and end this war once and for all."

Summoner jogged to catch up to me. She grabbed my arm and pulled herself close. "How far is it?"

I sighed and looked at her. She was freezing, I could tell. I groaned as I pulled off my overcoat and tossed it to her. "Put that on, it will keep you warm."

She looked at me. "What about you?"

I motioned down to my armor. "Enchanted armor. Keeps me warm. Has elements of sunstone inside it." I looked over at her and said, "I never finished my explanation. Dragon blood becomes dormant and weaker with each generation, but that's only because it's not used. Once you learn how to project your dragon voice, your blood will flow as strongly as any Dragonborn's."

She nodded as she slid my overcoat over her shoulders. "Ok, I get it. So, when are you going to teach me?"

I pointed out towards Solitude. "On the way to Solitude. We have a two day journey ahead of us. If we want to survive, you'll have to be able to Shout once we get there. I will need you to summon a familiar to send a letter to Jarl Madanach in Markarth."

She nodded. "Sure, once you write it."

I reached over to her and reached inside my coat. I could see her face blush as I did so. It made me smile a bit. I guess she was a little put off by just how close I was getting to her. I finally found my quill and a piece of paper from my journal.

_Madanach, _

_I have a lot of interesting things to say. I found the Summoner's granddaughter and we're heading to Solitude. Begin prepping your troops and meet us up there. See if you can distract them or something. I will be there in two days' time. This letter was written on the 3rd of Morningstar, just in case it does not make it to you right away._

_Bloodstain…_

…

I closed the letter and handed it over to Summoner, who took my letter. She waved her hand around, creating a small orb of dark purple magic. She threw the ball, which hit the ground and lit up into a giant swirling portal. A second later a spectral wolf jumped out through the portal. She handed the note to the wolf and said, "Ok, Nebula. Take this note and deliver it to Jarl Madanach in Markarth. Now, go!"

The wolf nodded and took off, sprinting away. I turned around and started walking. We had only two days until our final assault on Solitude. If everything went well we would take Solitude in a day's time, but as with anything, I doubted that we would take the city any time soon. I bet that something would get in our way.

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_**Cearbhail**: So, who wants to speculate on what is going to happen next? I can assure everyone that it will either meet your expectations as to what you already know what happens in the Shoutmen during the final battle, or you will be disappointed by what will not happen if I choose to not go that route._


	8. Chapter 8

**Cearbhail:**_ Ok, new chapter. Been a while, but I could not think of what to do with this chapter. so, enjoy._

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_Bloodstain's journal, entry 6. 5 Morningstar __4e323,_

_The past two days have passed rather quickly but also very slowly in an unfamiliar way. I have never taken to having a female presence around and now that I have one following me, asking me questions every few minutes, I cannot help but feel a little unfocussed and distracted from my original mission. It has not been too distracting that I stopped going towards Solitude, but it has been enough to keep me from going straight there. Visits to caravans, and smaller farming settlements have costs us some time. It was worth it in the end, though. The Summoner's face is well known, so we had to change it a bit. Alteration magic and a haircut do that just fine. Now she has elf ears and shorter pixie hair that's been dyed red instead of her black hair. Also, we altered her eyes from strong hazel to a soft icy blue. From what I learned from Vivian (Summoner's true name) she spent every minute hiding. Well, since she was five at least. There was a time when her parents believed that they could live in the open or at least out in the open without worrying about dying. A year later, they were killed. Both of them, in separate towns, on the same day._

_I know I can be paranoid, but this was before the after-purge. When I say after-purge I am referring to the current killing spree of Shoutmen. Since the original Summoner was a powerful Shoutman, it could be that any offspring were seen as immediate threats…but her old comrades were all just as strong and yet they were left to dwell in their broken sorrow, only being attacked when they retaliated to the Thalmor. So, why was it so important that her family members had to be killed immediately? I do not know, but I can assume Vivian is in the same boat. She is the last of her family legacy, so I have to keep her safe. Any vials of the original dragon blood serum have been destroyed by the Thalmor. That means that the Shoutmen are all that's left of Shouters. Well, unless you forget about Graybeards, who for whatever reason have escaped any Thalmor punishment._

_The reason for keeping her safe after realizing that we're all that's left of dragon blood is simple. It's because we are all that's left of any dragon blood. Dragons have long been extinct and Dragonborns are not created anymore, only born. If I die, my blood will not pass onto anyone else and there will never be a Shouter like me. Of course, my blood is bad so I guess my passing is inconsequential anyway. But Summoner's blood still flows deep, even if she doesn't use it. I have been training her in the way of the Thu'um…what I know of it at least._

_Anyway, we're only a few miles away from Solitude and I expect resistance upon getting near._

_Bloodstain…_

…

_Too close._ That was the thought that kept going through my head as Summoner and I pressed up against each other, mostly to keep warm. The sudden blizzard had come out of nowhere, but now was a perfect time to teach her a new Thu'um. We were only hours away from Solitude and once we got there, she needed to be combat ready. Sure, she could swing a sword and summon Daedric elementals to fight alongside her, but there was nothing more powerful than a giant fireball or a solid force-field that came straight from the mouth.

Vivian pushed herself closer to me, wrapping her arms tighter as she tried to keep warm. I was very aware that both of us could use magic to keep ourselves warm, but neither of us was willing to expose ourselves to the Thalmor that lived so closely by. If one magic-sensing elf whiffed us, we would be sought and killed. The great race of mankind no longer is allowed to practice magic. Like I said earlier, it was the elves' decision. First, they took away the only god that was made from a man: Talos. When they claimed the ability to take our faith, they took our nation. When they took our nation, they took our rights. Once they had that, they stripped us of every piece of armor, weapon, and made sure that magic was forbidden among anyone who wasn't an elf.

It is true that some of us escaped that ruling: those of us being the Graybeards and the remaining Shoutmen. Half the reason we didn't fight the Aldmeri Dominion was because that any magic we used was monitored by some floating orb that the Thalmor collected from Aldmer agents in the Psijic monks. Even if we did everything right and escaped unnoticed, we would find out the next day that the entire region was punished because of the outlawed magic. Since the magic caster could not be found, we learned the hard way that elves did not care who they punished; all they wanted was quiet acceptance of their rule. Too bad humans are anything but quiet when it comes to be ruled over.

Vivian pulled me closer. I could feel her skin shivering uncontrollably. I groaned to myself as I looked around the cave. It was empty and big enough for us to at least bunker down for a minute. I had to do something at least before we froze to death. Normally, this weather wouldn't bother me. It didn't bother, but what did bother me was the fact that this woman could not handle this cold. She practically lived in the cold frozen-over Orc stronghold. So, why was she cold now? Maybe her shivering state was induced by exhaustion and slight fear over what was going to happen. I made no attempt to hide what was going to happen when we marched into Solitude. She knew that we were most likely going to die.

My thoughts drifted over to Madanach. I hoped that he was ready for this battle. More importantly, I hoped that he arrived as soon as we did. I wanted all of us to storm the gate at the same time, hopefully in time to catch the Thalmor with their pants down.

Vivian finally pushed me away as she wrapped up in my overcoat. She reached up for her new ears and rubbed them. "Why did we have to take my hair off?" She asked as she started rubbing her ears with a very light fire magic.

"Even if we dyed your hair and reshaped your ears…if your hair was the same length, your facial features would have made you more recognizable. Cutting your hair to a smaller cut makes you look very different. Not to mention it allows your new elf ears point out. You can cast magic, but you must remember that we could not change your skin tone very much. You're a Bosmer…so your magic relies around using Illusion."

She seemed to understand and she nodded. "Ok, but Bosmer also know some Destruction as well. Can I _please_ light a fire?"

I nodded as I reached up to take off my mask. "Sure. We're hiding out here for a while anyway. Before we can move, we must hear from Madanach first. I'm not walking into the biggest Thalmor trap in Skyrim without an army behind me." I slowly slid my mask off, almost happy to have it off for the first time in over a week. Vivian not only didn't have a mask or a costume, but she had a name that she shared with me. It was only fair that I shared some of my information as well.

Her eyes locked onto mine and I saw her smile. "Wow…didn't know that your mask could come off."

I nodded as I placed the mask down. I looked at it for a couple minutes before I sighed. "I will admit; it has served as a second face for so long that it comes with its own life when I put it on. The Aldmeri Dominion cannot find me if they don't know what I look like. That is the key behind the Shoutmen surviving as long as we have. The only thing that has kept me alive this long is that I never stop moving and I never act inside my own town."

Vivian took her eyes off me long enough to bunch a pile of sticks together. She started casting a fire spell over the sticks and looked back up at me. "So, does your new face have a new name? Or do I still call you 'Bloodstain'?"

I shook my head. "My name is Claus Antigonus Motierre."

Vivian sat there for a couple seconds, processing my name. "You're an Imperial. You're name…it's Imperial, right?"

I nodded. "You are correct, although my last name is from my Breton side." I shrugged it away and almost found my heart racing. _Why am I talking about myself? I never share my personal information with anyone._

She nodded as she smiled. "I remember that some Imperial names have a meaning. Does yours?"

Again, I found myself nodding. "Yes, Claus means 'Victory of the People'. Antigonus means 'Opposite of my ancestors'." I walked up to the pit of fire that was now starting to crackle to life and sat down next to Vivian. "My mother…she wanted me to be a great Shoutman. She wanted me to be the victory that the people were looking for. She also told me about my Breton family's past history with assassins. I was going to be the one who was the opposite of that family, to redeem the family's name. That is why I need to fix this war. I owe it to her for naming me such a statement."

Vivian sat quietly by the fire, warming her hands as she did so. "Is it really that bad? This whole thing, I mean. I…have only heard about it, I've never actually seen it."

I found myself laughing despite how bad my thoughts were twisting. Was it bad? If they lined everyone up and started chopping off our heads…I think we'd be better off right now. I looked over at her face, seeing her bright blue eyes scanning mine for answers. So, I nodded. "I just burned a whole city to the ground…I returned it to ashes. And yet…I know the city is better off." I shook my head as I looked away. "It was a great city to. A city that was built by the great Dwemer race. A city full of ancient technology and artifacts that led to great discoveries. And…I blew it up to make it pure again. All because some elves don't care about the past anymore, they only care about what they can get and what they can profit from."

I looked over at Vivian, who looked shocked at my statement. Then, she nodded and looked down at the fire. "So…Shouting. How is it done?"

I pointed down at the fire. "Same as how you lit that fire. You used magic; Shouting is just another form of magic. It is a primitive magic that takes dragon blood to achieve. My blood is not strong enough to create Shouts, even with all my training. Well…I guess I can Shout, but…I need to use my hand to do it. Most Shouters don't need hands to pull off a legitimate Shout, but I do. Even with both my hands, my Shouts are subpar and slower to regenerate."

"So…how do I do it?" She asked.

I tried to answer, but then…I couldn't think of a word to come up with. I had some experience, but my Shouts weren't real, so learning from me was like…well…learning how to breathe air with lungs from a fish. "Well, I know one thing. You must first know the word you wish to speak and then you must project that word with all the feeling that you can muster. You have to know the word, what it means, what you want it to represent. Yol means 'fire'. So when you speak it, you must feel that word and what it means. You must want fire to fly out of your mouth. It will take you a lot of practice, especially since we can't get you a dragon soul to unlock it easier."

Vivian nodded. "Ok, I get it. So…what are we waiting for?"

I was about to answer right before I heard someone enter the cave. I looked at the entrance to see a hawk sitting near the entrance. It pushed forward, flapping its wings long enough to stride over to us. It stopped by me and offered it foot to me. I looked down and saw a note wrapped up along its leg. I smiled as I looked down and untied the note from the hawk.

_Bloodstain,_

_I have received your letter late evening of 3rd Morningstar. I've had enough time to ready my troops. You cannot imagine the change of the city since you've left. We just got it all cleaned up and temporary campgrounds outside, while most of our new citizens live down inside the Dwemer ruins. The slaves have become our new civilians. They've already started new shops and everything we need to have a functioning city once again._

_Thought you'd just like to know. Anyway, we're already up near Solitude. After reading this message, write me a note, attach it to Silverbeak's leg, and send her off. She'll return to me and while she is doing that, I want you and your new friend to begin marching to Solitude. Once I receive the note, I'll begin my attack. Hope to see you both soon,_

_Forsworn, the Shoutmen._

…

I wrote the note telling Madanach that I understood our coordinated movements. I attached the note to the hawk's leg. The hawk waited for a second before it took off, flying out the cave. I looked over at Vivian and said, "Summoner. It's time to put on your new costume."

She only sighed before she said, "So…I changed my appearance so that I can still wear a costume? How will dressing up in a Shoutman costume be better than hiding with my current form? Won't the Thalmor figure out that I'm _me_? It's not like there is just a new Shoutman elf out of the blue."

I smiled. "You forget that the Summoner they're looking for is dead. If we kept you looking like you…they would have figured it out anyway. You're safer with a new face. But, if you only show up as your current form, people will suspect why you're with me…A Shoutman. If you're a Shoutman, there is no doubt why you're with me, even if you are a Bosmer. It's all just a failsafe to keep your identity hidden. I don't know why your face is so special…but I'm not going to risk it."

Vivian's eyes widened at me mentioning her face. She looked away. "Oh? Well, I don't know why I'm so important."

I stopped for a second, giving her a good long look. I could tell that there was something that she wasn't telling me. I took my mask and slid it over my head, becoming Bloodstain again. I felt a sudden warm and coldness settle over me. It felt good to have my face back.

"I can tell you're hiding something from me, but it's not my problem if you want to keep it hidden. The Thalmor will find you if we don't end this war today. So…we have a lot to teach you and very little time to teach you with."

* * *

_**Cearbhail**: So, who wants to guess who Vivian really is? well, you'll find out next chapter._


	9. Chapter 9

**Cearbhail:**_ Amazing chapter. Loved writing it. I wish all my chapters in this book were written so well, but I guess since I'm coming up on the end, I don't have to hold any secrets anymore. So, enjoy and please me know what you've thought of the story so far (it's not done yet, still one official chapter left, and one teaser for a sequel), and please let me know what you think of the end._

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_Bloodstain's journal, entry 7. 5 Morningstar 4e323._

_Evening; cold, dark. A blizzard has settled over Solitude, a blizzard that muffled our movements, disguised our forms, and has hidden us from the watch towers. The watchers look down at us, but they don't see us. We are invisible, at least until we attack._

_The Summoner finally has a worthy instructor: Madanach. He shared all his knowledge of his Shouts with her and she is finally able to Shout like the rest of us. Put aside the fact that Summoner can also summon armor and weapons wherever she wants…now she can blast fire and ice out her mouth. Her mastery of Shouting has come very quickly, making me think that she's an original Dragonborn, not one the fabricated ones like myself and Madanach. If my hunch were correct, she would have been a direct heir to the original Dragonborn. That would be the only way her blood could respond so directly to Shouts and sharing knowledge. The fabricated blood of us lesser Dragon-blooded is harder to work with since it's a design pulled from the source. For Summoner to progress so quickly, she has to be an original. I don't see any other way._

_Tonight's the night. No matter what happens, today is the day that the world as we know it ends. Whether it is for the better or worse. Whether Skyrim comes back to the Nords or falls completely to the Dominion. We're all that's left, we're the last voice. If our Shouts die off, there will be on one left to Shout. It's a sobering feeling. To know that no matter what happens, it will reshape life as we know it. Our battle has been long coming to a close and this is the end. Tonight…we might have a new High King. Tomorrow, Cyrodiil might have a new Emperor. Elsweyr a Mane, Black Marsh a King or Queen. We don't know, but we will find out. For anyone who finds this journal, remember the 5 days of Morningstar…of how the Reach came back to power and Skyrim came back to the Nords. This is the voice of the Shoutmen…_

_Bloodstain, Summoner, and Reachman._

…

The thick cloud of snow concealed every inch of our bodies. If the wind was any less violent, you could probably hear us shouting to the sky, willing it to snow harder. We had been setting this storm up for an hour, constantly refueling the sky with our rage. The wind cried out in our misery, the sky shedding our tears. This fight was for Skyrim and now Skyrim was supplying us with cover, concealment, and a distraction.

I turned to look at Summoner and Reachman. They stood ready. Reachman still wore his Forsworn armor, as much a symbol as it was ritualistic. Summoner dressed in her new blood-red combat robes. It was designed to fit with any armor she could summon, while still appearing as a tactically advanced robe. Her hood was pulled up over her head with a fox mask that I had designed to hide her face. It was not because I did not want her recognized, but because foxes were crafty and so was she.

And finally, there was me. Dressed in my black crystal armor, the last known crystal armor ever designed. Right before Solitude fell, the Crimson Blades destroyed any crystal weapons and any crystal armor that they had designed. It was a small effort to hinder the Aldmeri Dominion from seizing any more technology. They already had all the Dwemer tech they could ever need, but they would never figure out crystal resonance. So, the Crimson Blades hid away all of their blueprints, fleeing with their messengers, moving their operations to hidden ruins inside Elsweyr and Black Marsh. The last known armor was sent to the Shoutmen and it was passed down to me from my father. I kept the armor hidden behind my trench coat. No one ever knew that I wore it.

Behind the three of us was a massive army. The drunk men I talked to when I announced that I was taking back Skyrim had been busy. Apparently, my words did not fall on deaf ears. They went from town to town and rallied to fight back. The men and women of each town banded together and got rid of their elven overlords. Whether or not they killed every elf in their town, I did not know, but each town was now free. Every town had a new Jarl, the leader of their resistance, the leader who stayed quiet and operated in the dark. I never knew I wasn't the only one fighting back. I never knew that so many people like myself wanted this country to be free again. I thought everyone had given up, that I alone was the only one, but I wasn't. The army of three hundred behind me proved me wrong. And with that army, we were now ready.

Reachman looked back at my army and patted me on the shoulder. "Bloodstain…" He started…blinking back tears, nodding with joy. "What you've done here…" He finished with a pat on my arm and turned back to Solitude. "Not only did you fight for Skyrim by yourself in the dark …but now you've brought Skyrim her hope again." He looked back at me. "If only the royal clan were here to see this now. Imagine if Seer herself could see this moment. The moment we break down our doors and take Skyrim back."

I smirked under my mask. "If Seer could see this, I would weep. I'm stained with blood." I turned back to see my army. The drunken man that I had shown my face to was now standing in the front of his army, his pitchfork resting comfortably against his shoulder. I nodded to him. "How has your life been since you started your purge?"

The man patted the sword clipped to his side. "My son now knows how to forge weapons and armor. It's not pretty, but we're recovering. Trading has opened up again and we're freeing all the slaves around Skyrim. It's almost like this nightmare is almost over."

"So, you have your hope again. Has your bubble popped?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "No…it's not _our_ bubble that's been popped…it's the Thalmor's. They lived each day thinking that they owned us, that we would just accept our fate. They forgot what happened when the Wild Elves controlled Cyrodiil, what man is capable of when push comes to shove." He looked back at the men and women formed up behind him. "Everyone here has realized what needs to be done. We need to get our lives back; to live the way we want, not the way elves dictate."

I nodded to him. This guy, his face was cleanly shaven, his clothes new and unstained. He looked much different than when I first met him. The army that lined up behind him wore shoddy armor that looked like it was made from a child playing with thin metal. I can understand that we have not remembered how to do something that's been outlawed and that we will have to rebuild and reteach what we took centuries to perfect, but with some help and some well-kept smithies, we can become what we always were. The best craftsmen of Tamriel.

I sighed to myself. I don't know why I kept putting myself in the same gene pool as the Nords. I forgot that I was an Imperial. I was tactically strong, politically smart, and very well-versed. My speeches were what got me thought some tough spots. My ability to think fast on my feet is what made me Bloodstain.

I turned to Reachman and nodded. "Begin the attack in ten minutes. I'll see about creating a distraction."

Reachman nodded to me. "Good luck to you, Bloodstain. I'll see you on the other side, comrade."

Quietly, Summoner and I walked up to the gate to Solitude. We did not take off our masks, we did not slow our approach. Standing near the giant wooden doors that wanted to keep us out were a pair of Thalmor guards. Two Bosmer that were dressed in elven armor. The armor that used to be golden but was changed to a red/black combination to celebrate the successful takeover of Skyrim.

As we approached the two guards went through the standard reactions. First: one of them saw us coming and looked to his partner. He pushed him on the shoulder and pointed to us, probably saying, "Hey, look." Then: the two guards stand up and direct themselves to face us. They both look slightly confused, like they couldn't believe what they were seeing. Then, one they made out our masks, they knew we were Shoutmen. They unsheathe their weapons and start approaching us. Honestly, I don't know why they're so predictable.

"Who are you and what is your reason for visiting Solitude, home of the elves?" The older looking Bosmer asked me. His eyes were blood-red, his armor old, faded. His face looked stretched and leathery. No doubt this Bosmer had seen a lot of combat in his life. The scar running across his left check told me so.

"We're here to see the Councilor of Solitude." I replied. "She's expecting us."

"The Councilor of Solitude is a male, sir." The younger Bosmer replied in a defensive tone.

I smirked under my mask. I was certain that they could see it, even if it was more of a stretch than anything else. "Hard to tell with Altmer…they all look like girls to me."

The younger Bosmer cracked and charged at me with his sword. The older Bosmer had just enough time to jump back as I grabbed the younger Bosmer by the attacking arm. I slid my hand up to his wrist when I halted his attack, spun his arm around until I heard several snaps, then brought an elbow down on top of skull. I enhanced the attack with magicka, making his elven helmet shatter in half as I did so. The Bosmer fell limp to the ground, never to walk again. No…I didn't kill him as has been my custom. He will forever be paralyzed and live to see this kingdom fall.

The older Bosmer smiled as he tossed down his weapon. "It's been fun while it lasted, but please, go on in."

I didn't bother messing with him. I ran up, ran my fist upside his jaw, and knocked him out. I did not want him reporting to anyone else. I took in the silence and forgot that I was already running behind. I wanted something to distract the masses inside from the siege outside.

I pushed the door open and walked inside. Once I was inside the town, I started looking around. The town looked very neat and orderly. The buildings were brightly colored with golden and white furnishings; outdoor stands that filled the busy streets were also well furnished. The locals were all elves, of any race that you could think of. Ayleids, Altmer, Aldmer, Bosmer, and Dunmer all walked around as if the day was normal.

Before anyone had noticed that I was there, I stuck my hands out to the emergency gate that was dropped in case of invasion. I breathed corrosion onto the chains and the turning mechanism. I smiled as I saw the device crack. Next, I brought Frost and Fire straight into the stone supporting the gate's weight. I smiled as I saw the stone shift and crack; the gate flinched as the rocks gave way and that in turn made the chains and release creek. I don't think anyone noticed it, not enough to do something about it.

I directed my attention back to the town. A child licking a snow cone looked up at me with bright orange eyes. His eyes locked onto my face and his snow cone fell from his hands. At that moment, everyone else started taking notice to me as well. The busy streets now became silent with hundreds of eyes looking at me and Summoner. It was the very sensation of a group of rabbits stuck in a corner with a hungry wolf drooling, drawing near to eat. I had not fully expected this, never coming to Solitude once in my life. I thought it was all just Thalmor and Nord prisoners, like it was thirty years ago.

Everyone seemed to stand still, waiting for me to do something. In the quiet, I had forgotten to move. In that time of hesitation, six Thalmor guards had approached us to see what it was that had the crowd of shoppers in dismay. One look at my mask and the swords left their scabbards.

"Everyone, stand back!" The head of the guard said as he walked up to me. "This is a dangerous fellow…Bloodstain, a Shoutman."

At the word 'Shoutman', I heard children and younger women whine and scream a little. I guess the tittle of Shoutman was becoming something like a bogeyman to the elves of Skyrim. I guess I can see that happening. If only they knew why we were really fighting they wouldn't see us as scary, but their protectors.

"Why are you here, Shoutman?" The head guard as me as he approached. "You know that there is a price on your head. Are you that dumb that you would walk willingly into the Aldmeri Dominion capital of Skyrim knowing what would happen when you did so?"

His words sounded nice. It was true that I knew that I wasn't leaving…unless I had a huge army outside waiting to bombard the town. Six minutes…that's all I had left to find out what I wanted to know before Reachman started his attack.

"I am here because someone is killing the Shoutmen…and we have a bounty on our heads. So, I wish to speak to the High Councilor of Skyrim. I know he's in this town." I said back.

The Thalmor smirked at me as he sheathed his weapon. His troops followed as well. "If you come peacefully, Bloodstain…I am sure that Councilor Fiirnar will be more than glad to talk to you."

Councilor Fiirnar…the oldest living Altmer alive. Bitten by a child vampire during the Aedra Wars that were lost to the arc of time back during the days of the Aldmeri Dominion's first rise to power. It was going to be an honor to meet the legendary vampire that destroyed our world. And it would be an honor to kill him as the Dawnguard tried to so very long ago.

The walk to the capital building, the White-Gold Palace was enjoyable. People cleared the streets as we walked up. Guards kept piling on around us, making my diversion so much easier for Reachman to handle. This was no simple town. This was a fortified hold with more than enough Thalmor to handle a simple march up a crowded corridor. No, I needed to weaken things before they got here. Good thing I already handled the gate. That was my first priority: weaken the entrance so they wouldn't be bunched up outside and rounded up into a kill-zone. Now, I just had to separate their forces; that was what I was doing now. Everything had been planned out before I entered the town. Five minutes left.

Once we entered the building, I was surprised at how fast the good Councilor responded. Right as we walked into the room, the Thalmor overlord was already walking into the room, bowing graciously to us.

The Councilor had dark eyes with bright yellow irises. His skin looked paled and crisp, like the sun had broken his skin apart. Long fangs pushed outside his lips, giving him a demonic expression of a permanent snarl. His long silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his Thalmor robes looked brand new and heavily tailored. He looked very elegant, but that look was now a disguise to a hideous blood-sucking beast and enemy to every man in Tamriel.

"Why, Bloodstain. So good to see you at last." Fiirnar said as he glanced at me. "Nice duster. Made from trolls, right?"

I nodded, allowing myself to smile under my mask. "Yeah, that's right. And I like your teeth. You were bit by a small girl, right?"

His smile vanished away. "Not just a girl, a newly turned vampire. During the end of the Aedra Wars, she had a chance to betray her friends for the chance to be my permanent servant. She would have the freedom to do as she pleased…as long as it served our purposes. Instead, she chose to run away as I seized her friends in a trap. I never saw her again…until I took over Skyrim in the Skyrim Purge. I smiled as I snapped her neck, killing her friend…Princess Cecilie next." Fiirnar's sick smile returned to his face.

I fought the urge to kill him now. I should have. I really should have. But I wanted to know _why_ the Shoutmen were dying. There had to be a higher reason than just 'because'.

Fiirnar took my silence as a conclusion to our discussion. He waved us to follow him. "Right this way. We're having a business meeting that I'm sure you will love, Bloodstain."

"You know why I'm here, Thalmor. I want to know why you've ordered the extinction of the Shoutmen." I said as I followed behind him.

Fiirnar turned his head in slight curiosity, like something I said had just caught his attention. "Oh? You want to know…well, come with me to the dinning lounge and you'll see why soon enough." He started walking in front of me again, leading us further into the castle. He looked back at me with a curious smile. "But I do enjoy paranoid theories of Imperials. Oh…how I miss them." He nodded to me. "Please, do fill me in on what it is you think I'm up to."

I allowed a breath to escape my lungs before I started. "I thought it was just another purge, but that was too easy…and honestly I don't see why you'd wait until now to begin a purge of super Shouters that had given up fighting. So, when I started looking around, I noticed all the recent excavation of Dwemer ruins. Excavation that had ended ten years ago, because of failed experiments. Once I saw some of the new blueprints of magicka cannons and notes referring to old ruins found in Elsweyr…notes written by the King of Worms…I started piecing things together."

Fiirnar smiled. "Good thinking. But, what does it mean, though? Can you piece it together?"

I chuckled as I crossed my arms. "You're creating a super weapon that can destroy any hold city. You want to make sure that no one can ever rise up against you ever again. The only problem was that you lacked a power source strong enough to actually power the weapon. This is where I learned something very interesting from a loud mouth in Markarth. You've unearthed a massive magicka-infused device that was recorded in the Thalmor Wizard's journal…Ancano."

Fiirnar nodded in return. "Good speculation. Very solid in your thesis. All of those events did happen. But…why would I need a cannon in the first place? One blast is very ineffective and only will make everyone rally up and attack my city to shut it down. So…now…tell me why I would openly start killing Shoutmen?"

My blood ran cold. "Because you knew that I would start rallying people up to fight you…in order to figure out what you were planning." One minute.

Fiirnar smiled. "And that…Bloodstain is how you plan accordingly."

"Councilor, the army you prepared the cannon for is rising at the gates." The head guard said.

Fiirnar nodded and said, "Give it one minute, captain." Fiirnar turned to face me and said, "Come, Bloodstain. I want you to see this."

He turned around and pushed against a wall. The rock he pushed vanished inside the wall with a grinding sound. The wall started pushing back, sliding away. The wall disappeared into a balcony. The blizzard snowed furiously into the room, but Fiirnar stepped out like it was nothing to him. Summoner and I followed him out.

I reached for my dagger and started unsheathing it. Fiirnar glanced back at me and my entire body stiffened up. "Don't bother, Bloodstain. I'm a vampire, you're my thrall. Get over it." He set his eyes back over the horizon. "Oh…drat. I can barely see the coming of a new age with all this snow in my way. Oh…Farwen." He called over his shoulder.

My eyes darted over to Summoner. Her body was just as stiff as mine. Neither of us could move. This was not good. This was not good at all.

The 'High King' of Skyrim walked up. Farwen was a decent elf, by himself. He wasn't a Shoutman like me, but he never caused problems for any of us either. He ruled Skyrim quietly, but when it came to taking orders from Councilor Fiirnar, he couldn't resist. It's a whole vampire servant thing.

The High King bowed to Fiirnar. "Yes, Councilor?"

"Please, if you will…use your dragon blood to clear the sky so I may see the army of men and non-mer die." Fiirnar said, smiling.

"_LOK VAH KOOR_!" Farwen Shouted to the sky. The raging blizzard seemed to die down in an ever-flowing wave.

As the skies cleared up, the sun started breaking out. I could see the army now gathering outside. I wished I could have warned them about what was going to happen, but I was still glued to my skin by this hold person spell.

"Now, Bloodstain…you will see what it truly means to rise up and to fall to shame. Just as my ancestors did when your kind interfered with our rule. Time for a new age, Bloodstain. One without humans ruling anything anymore." Fiirnar said as the castle started shaking. Looking up, I could see a massive Dwemer crafted cannon coming out of the top of the castle.

The cannon fired off a brilliant blue beam off. I watched in horror as the beam ripped through the wall of the town and into the thin corridor that was the entrance to Solitude. Within seconds the beam died off and with it my hopes. The only thing left in the corridor was scorched earth and toiled soil. A black scar would forever be a reminder of the hundreds of brave souls who died, fighting for a single dream. The dream to be free again. I tried my best to secure that dream for them, but I had failed.

Fiirnar smiled and looked back at me. "Now, Bloodstain. Let's discuss about the second phase of my operation of "Bloodstain Paranoia". I'm sure you've been looking for the recluse 'Summoner'." He looked over at Vivian and smiled. "I am to guess that you found her." He reached up and pulled off her mask. His smile vanished upon seeing Vivian still appearing as a Bosmer with icy blue eyes and flaming red hair.

I shook my head. "I did find her…dead, from old age. I did however find a new Shoutman. Name's Scarlet. She's got this thing for ending oppression. You know…Shoutmen stuff."

Fiirnar was fuming but he calmed himself. "Well, Bloodstain. It's sad that you couldn't find her offspring. The last known High King of Skyrim was Asger Battle-Born. If his offspring were to put on the Royal Circlet…imagine just how the dragon blood would react. It would be enough to reclaim Skyrim as their own."

I head started turning. "Wait….was Summoner…Princess Cecilie's daughter?"

Fiirnar nodded. "You are correct. You never knew? How sad." He said, punching me in the stomach. He reached up and ripped my mask off. "You no longer have a purpose, Bloodstain. Time to die." He reached down to kill me, but he stopped himself. "No…I'll keep you alive, as well as your friend. You both will make a wonderful dinner, a constant supply of Imperial and Bosmer dragon blood."

And with that, we were escorted to the dungeons. I wish I knew what I was going to do next. I wish I has some idea left, but I didn't. I was done. I'm out of the fight for now on. I looked at Vivian, the now discovered heiress to the throne. No…I had to keep fighting. I could not give up. My Princess was depending on me. I had to set this country right. Fiirnar and Farwen both had to die. …. And Vivian needed to be crowned High King. I knew I could do this, if I had a little help.

* * *

_**Cearbhail**: Yes, all this time Fiirnar has just been using the Shoutmen to bring anyone who might think of uprising just to have them killed off in one massive strike. And now, Bloodstain knows the truth about Vivian. The last Battle-Born in existance, the last of any royal clan alive. Now, time to see how the story ends._


	10. Chapter 10

**Cearbhail:**_ Yay, new chapter. It's short but it has its moments. Things are coming to a close soon and I promise you most likely will not be disappointed._

* * *

_Bloodstain's journal, entry 8, 7 Morningstar(Mourning-star for me though) 4e423._

_The attack on the 5th of Morningstar failed. I remember the town, how every elf looked at us in fear of what we might do. I did not consider their feelings in our war, of how they would be treated once we took our country back. Would we punish those who did not fight to protect us? Would we forgive them and find out that they would form a resistance to take what we took back? Isn't that how it all started? Would this world continue to be just one giant revenge match between elves and man? Questions, questions, questions. Never answers. Never solutions. Maybe this is for the best._

_It's not like we have an army anymore. The final purge happened on the 5th. History books will tell of something different, but hear it now from one of the last Imperials, one of the last noble men of history. Councilor Fiirnar is really a vampire that first come into power during the start of the second Aldmeri Dominion. He claimed his throne during the Aedra Wars when he took an opportunity to kill several leaders of the war front. When the leaders of the world were eliminated, he marched his troops into the nations. By killing the leaders of the world, he created confusion that allowed his army to take over Black Marsh and Cyrodiil. By the time any resistance was formally formed, it was too late to combat._

_Centuries past and he started seizing notes from Dwemer ruins, Mannimarco's private black soul gem capacitor journal, and the journal of Ancano from the College of Winterhold. With these notes and the corresponding items of which the notes talked about, he was able to fashion a massive magicka cannon capable of destroying whole cities in one blast. When he completed his designed, he started killing the last warriors of Skyrim, the Shoutmen. He counted on me fighting back to lure more willing men and women into a battle to take Solitude. Once we had emerged into one mass…he killed us all in that one blast. He used us, killed us, just so that he could live eternally as the ruler of Tamriel. He is evil and needs to rejoin the cycle of death._

_Two days have passed since the final purge, I think. Any thoughts of escaping our prison have left my mind. The walls are barred up with special magicka-blocking malachite bars and walls. I can't feel anything at all, not even a slight breath of fire. My Thu'um are useless, primarily because they are in fact fake. While Summoner resides in a cell next to mine, we have yet to talk. It's been two days, and all we've discussed is how to escape. I wish to ask her if she is the princess, but I'm afraid of being overheard. I believe she feels the same way, or just wishes to ignore the question as long as possible._

_I wish that I could formulate an escape, but I'm weak. They have been starving us, only feeding us rice, yucca, and pasta. I remember Alik'r prison camps hosted foods as such for a required three meals a day. You'd get one in the morning, another in the afternoon, and one at night. Our treatment is the same here. No meat, no vegetables, no strength. With all the vibrations from the malachite, I can barely stand anymore. The humming is getting into my head. I wish I could figure something out._

_Bloodstain…_

…

Time, distorted. The only thing that told me how many days pass is the amount of meals I received. I've had seven meals, so two days have passed.

The walls glowed with a dark green tint, vibrations hummed off the walls in a quiet relaxing way. It was trancing. By which I meant that it pacified the mind, making it easier for criminals to become docile and accepting of their fate. The crystal shamans of the Crimson Blades guild created these walls for just such an occasion. The guild itself was appointed by the Queen of Skyrim when there were no formal mage fighters to protect her hold. She did not think the Imperial Legion would be enough against a Thalmor threat. Because of this, the Queen appointed one of her most trusted Blades and crystal shamans to start a new guild, comprising the combat styles of magic, swords, and bard. The three strongest combat styles in existence.

My mind seemed to drift away because of the way the vibrations from the walls confused my mind. It took a lot of concentration to keep your track of mind inside these cells. I could not stand the silence anymore, I needed something to keep my mind busy. Even if we hadn't been speaking since we got captured, I had to say something at least.

"Hey…Scarlet." I said, calling Vivian by her mock name.

"Yeah?" I heard a soft drowsy voice call from the cell behind my back.

"Did I wake you up?" I called back. It felt nice to talk to her, comforting, warming. These were feelings that I had long forgotten. Although I had only known her for almost a week, we had plenty of time to bond into a tight team. I wondered how much longer we could continue being a team, how much longer before Fiirnar got bored with us. Bosmer blood and Nord blood tasted very different. I wondered if he would tell the difference. Hopefully the dragon blood inside her would distort any other differentiating taste.

"Something of the sort. My neck hurts." She called back. "It's hard…the feedings. I seem to…blank out during and after them." Her voice sounded weak.

I nodded. The feedings had been hard, but we were not the only ones inside these cells. Prisoners were locked in the same cages as well. A whole castle of vampires, the Aldmeri Dominion with the same living rulers forever. It was a sickening feeling. And we were here as personal snacks until they dried us up. I actually learned something about the slave camps. The kids that were rebellious, the parents that did not comply, the old men who decided to give up…were sent here as blood banks for the new elven vampire royalty. Vivian and I were like a 'dessert', sweet tasty eloquent blood that was very rare and dying off.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this, Scarlet." I called to her. I did feel sorry. She was living in peace and quiet. She was in hiding. And I had dragged her out just so that I could take the Thalmor out of their comfort zone. It didn't matter, though. They sought the last heir to the Battle-Born clan. They would have found her eventually, or her children. That thought sent angry chills down my back. I wanted to protect the royal throne. We failed a century ago; I would not allow it to continue any further.

I heard a soft chuckle from her cell. "It's fine. Here…" I heard her say. "Can you hold my hand?"

I smiled and nudged over to the edge of the cell. I stuck my hand out of the bars, finding her hand within seconds. I took hers into mine and we just sat there. This was it…the way the rest of our lives were going to live out. Until they got sick of us at least.

"What?" She started asking something but stopped. I could hear the desperate tone in her voice, the quiet resistance and fear of the unknown. "What's going to happen to us?"

I let out a breath that had been building in my chest. What was going to happen to us? Well, we would be fed upon until we died. I could not tell her that, though. "We'll find a way to escape. Then…we'll find a way to get the other necessary thing accomplished."

"Other necessary thing?" She questioned with a hazy voice. "What's that?"

I smiled as I shook my head. I kept forgetting that she was not used to being stealthy and hidden. She was a held away kid who didn't know the world outside her cave. I couldn't hold anything against her. "That's _our_ secret." I said back to her, trying to emphasis the 'our' loud enough so that she might catch onto what both of us really knew.

I think she caught on because she squeezed my hand tighter. "If we're lucky, you mean." She said back. "I don't think we'll ever get out of here. Besides, I wasn't talking about us. I was talking about…the war. What's going to happen now that we've lost?"

My smile started to vanish as I started thinking. What was going to happen? The world was now owned fully by elves and whatever resistance of men had formed was wiped out in one afternoon. When the news spread that the Aldmeri Dominion had a super weapon…no one would ever raise a finger against them ever again. Their dominance would be infinite, even if the weapon ceased to function. Just the possibility that history could repeat itself would be enough to pacify any threats.

"What happens? What has been happening for 300 years. The Aldmeri Dominion will continue to rule everyone. They will make rules that favor the Altmer, Aldmer. And the other elves, while not in power, will be favored and placed in high society places, treated as common light royalty. While men will be treated as second-class petty workers, such as miners and farmers. They will produce all the food that the Altmer will eat, while not receiving money, only the option to live another day if they produce enough food. And even beneath that will be the beast races. They will be treated as slaves, pets, and sexual entertainment for the elves. That's how it was before in Morrowind and early Cyrodiil. That's how it will return now."

"Wow…" Vivian replied. "I wish we could do something to keep that from happening."

I chuckled and just felt the warm feeling in her hand. Her smooth soft hand. I rested my head against the smooth malachite wall and let my breath escape. "We will, Scarlet. We will."

…

[Madanach]

"We should charge"

"No, it's a trap."

"Not if your friend did his job."

Images flashed through my head. I was arguing with the resistance right before they charged up to Solitude. I rolled my eyes as I knew that something was going to go wrong. I wanted to take my own troops up the side of the cliff, fire arrows from above while the army charged the gate. Couldn't get us all in one shot that way. And that's exactly what happened. They took us in one shot.

I was still in the back, preparing to tell my troops to sneak away when I saw the bright light. A giant beam of brilliant blue energy suddenly flashed through the entire valley, incinerating the whole attacking front in one blast. The attack rolled over top of us, blowing the ground up around us. The next thing I remembered was snow flying up in my face, covering me in a burial ground. A screeching sound of a hundred wailing souls ripped through the ground, killing anyone it touched. A hard burning sensation rubbed through my body and I was sure I had been hit. After that, I…forget.

My body was starting to get track of what was going on. My body was freezing cold, my joints were horribly locked up, and my head was spinning violently. For some reason, I was still alive. When I tried to open my eyes, I could see only darkness. I tried to sit up but my body refused movement. Startled, I started screaming out, hoping that someone anyone, even the elves, would hear me and dig me out.

"Quiet." A soft feminine voice called out. "Your body is still healing. Relax and allow me to finish healing you."

My breathing started to quiet itself and my anxiety started calming. Ok, so I was not buried underneath a giant wall of snow, I was in someone's healing bed being tended to. Normally, I would be happy at receiving news of that, but for some reason, I felt a little more paranoid. I think Bloodstain was starting to rub off on me.

How did you find me? Who are you?" I asked, my voice sounding strained and cracked. Just by speaking those small sentences, my vocal cords cracked and I started coughing violently. I felt like the inside of my throat would start bleeding any second if I continued any sort of vocal work.

"Relax, Reachman. You are safe with me." She replied, walking over to me. "Now, just sit still and let me continue healing you." A warm feeling started spreading over my body, taking me into a blissful state of relaxation. The coldness surrounding my body dissipated, replaced with a feeling of butterflies walking on my skin. A strange numb but light feeling that tickled more than anything else.

I decided to just sit there and allowed the healer to do her job. I would not hurt to find out everything that had happened since I had passed out. How much time had passed? What ultimately happened? I wanted some answers. "May I ask a question?"

"You have been out for two days. Your army was all but destroyed by the Aldmeri Dominion's magicka cannon. A few of your Reachmen have survived and are out scouting for a new way to breach the wall. You cannot just 'storm the castle' now. You must be stealthy. Bloodstain and the Summoner are held up in the prison. They are the newest blood for the vampires that live inside the castle."

"Vampires?" I asked back in surprise. I could feel my toes starting to scrunch. Good, that was at least some feeling I had back. Too bad my legs were still too locked up to bend. I must have been partially frozen.

"Yes, vampires. The Aldmeri Dominion is being led by an immortal race of elven overlords. Your friends are now being held as bloods for the vampires to feast upon." The healer finally summed up. I could feel her hands hovering over my legs, feeding Restoration magic into my legs.

My mind started processing everything that I was just told. I was out-cold for two days and in that time, everything had gone to oblivion. The Aldmeri Dominion was being ruled by immortal Altmer, the Shoutmen was all but finished, and any chances of saving Skyrim let alone the world…were shot.

"Do not fear. There is still time, still a plan." The healer said as the feeling in my legs returned. "Once I get finished healing you, return to Solitude, seek your troops near the cliff. They have an entrance through the sewers that leads to the prisons. Free your friend and then…kill Fiirnar and anyone who poses a threat. From there…well…" she said, with a hint of a smile growing on her lips. "Bloodstain will tell you where to go from there."

Finally, I found my head shaking. "How do you know all this?" I asked, my voice finding some strength again.

"Let's just say…I see a lot of things." She replied, her voice filled with a growing laugh. "Now, just relax and allow me to finish healing you." Her voice carried a lighter tone and I found my body beginning to relax again. Before I heard anything else, a light humming noise covered my ears. She was healing my head now. "Sleep. You will need it for tomorrow."

* * *

_**Cearbhail**: Two more chapters to go... or one. Most likely two though. Hope you have enjoyed the story so far even though in the middle it seemed to veer off my original idea. But that's how I write. I have an idea and my fingers disobey me and I don't question it. It usually leads to new ideas, new plots, new characters, and ... new possible endings._


	11. Chapter 11

**Cearbhail:**_ Ok, I split these up into two chapters. I don't like making them so long that people are forced to read for too long of a time and getting bored or distracted too far into it. I know I do._

* * *

[Bloodstain]

I was dreaming. A common thing when you have nothing else to do. I was on top of the Blue Palace. The world was burning around me. Standing near the center of the tower, right where the magicka cannon rested, I could see the Seer looking out at the fire. She turned to face me, her kind smile greeting me. She stuck out her hand, beckoning me to come to her.

I stepped up to her, taking her by the hand. She felt so real, everything looked as though it had already happened.

"It's about time you took my hand, Bloodstain." The Seer said, looking out at the scene. "This will come to pass. The world will burn."

"Why?" I asked. "Why haven't you done anything to change it?"

She looked over at me, her smile fading away. "You make me sound like a god. I'm only a person, one who already tried and failed. But you…are so much more. This world is of your making. It will burn and it will be silenced." She smiled. "And you'll do it for the right reasons."

I was about to question her but I felt her pulling away. She smiled as she disappeared under a mist. I found myself being pulled back into my body. I was waking up.

"Wake up, Bloodstain."

I could hear Branii as she stepped up to my cage. She was one of the immortal Thalmor and the current Councilor of Whiterun. All the councilors from around Skyrim and the other provinces were all here today, celebrating their final victory. Today would have been a perfect time to strike, if I had any magicka remaining in my body.

I looked up at her. Her dulled yellow face that was almost an ash gray was almost put to shame by her soulless black eyes. The ring of bright yellow irises glared through me, and with no magical defenses, I might as well have been bitten right there.

I pushed myself up off the floor and slid myself against the wall. "Why, hello Councilor."

She smirked at me. "Well, well. Claus Motierre is the infamous Bloodstain. If I had known…I would have killed you a long time ago." She opened the door to my cage and stepped inside. "Now, stand up, I don't wish to get my knees dirty."

When I didn't move, she grabbed me by the shoulder and lifted me up with no problem. She slammed me against the wall and I was sure that one of my shoulder blades cracked. She smiled as I coughed up blood, some of which splashed onto her face. She didn't shirk away from it like others would. A long tongue that looked alien rolled out of her mouth and lapped at it. She smiled even more hideously and said, "Mmm, you Dragonborns do have special blood. I always hungered for you…your blood was always calling me."

She pulled me in for an embrace, my body already succumbing to it. I hated it, but my body wanted the endorphin rush. Something to calm my mind through this prison experience. She was content to breathing on my neck while my body tensed, expecting to feel the tight pinch of the bite and then the rush of pleasure and unadulterated bliss. I would not be surprised if I had some sort of dysfunction during the feeding process. With how many I've gone though and enjoyed it…I could never tell what was going on down there.

Branii decided to stop messing with me, while all she was doing was just savoring the smell of my neck, and bit. She pulled herself in close, wrapping her arms around my back, pulling me in tight as if I was a lover or something. While the inside of my neck started going numb and my head started going into a haze, the only thing I could focus on was her tongue dancing on my neck. It sent goose-bumps down my spine.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, Branii sipping me like I was a delicate wine that had to be sipped and tasted over just plain consumed. In those long minutes, my mind continued to drift along the happy road where I chased a giant purple dragon…but I could never catch him. When she finished, I didn't feel her teeth exit, just saw her hands push me away gently. She was breathing hard, her mouth covered in rich dark blood. Her eyes had turned red again, almost Altmer in appearance. "By the gods, Bloodstain…I wish I could take you back with me." She started licking her lips, her lips pulling into a smile. "Your blood is so…" She shook her head and stepped away. "If I don't leave, I will drain you." With that she flashed away.

"Are you ok?" Vivian asked. I loved hearing her voice.

I tried to formulate words, ideas. I couldn't bring any to mind. My head was still reeling over the thought of Branii as she gave me the kiss of death. It was the only thing I could think of.

"Bloodstain?" She asked. "Are you still alive?"

I wanted to answer and I guess I grunted out, "Yeah." My mind started processing again and I looked around my cage. My head was now spinning. "Ugh…it's getting worse. Soon enough I'll lose my mind entirely."

"Me too." She replied. "I almost couldn't come back. Next time they bite me, just keep calling me until I answer. Ok?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that goes for you too. It's the only way we'll keep our heads while we're here."

"But…why are we still fighting? We can't keep this up forever, Bloodstain." She sounded like she was going to start crying. I could not blame her, it was getting tough for both of us, people biting our necks and taking our blood away at least seven times a day. It was getting hard to hold onto reality. We would soon lose our sanity, and it had only been a few days.

I looked back through at the wall where she lied opposite of me. "We'll get out of here."

Then she asked the only question I did not have an answer for. "How?"

…

[Madanach]

Trees were torn apart. The ground was a giant stretching crater. The ground was darkened, blackened and as cold as the void. I could still see the faces of the men who died here, hear their souls cry out as they were silenced, fused with the earth. Magicka didn't destroy, it returned what was given. If the cannon hit my men, they would have been returned to the earth, forever stuck in this blackened pit to suffer eternity.

The crater was the so large and deep that it was near impossible to ever fix. This giant scar would be a constant reminder of the men and women who died trying to bring freedom back to Skyrim, back to Tamriel. They had died trying. And right now, they had died for nothing. I hoped that I could change that.

I looked around, hoping that I was still invisible to the naked eye. Dressed in an all-white cloak, I slowly and stealthily strode across the snow, stopping every time a patrol passed over the tower, glancing down at me. I don't think anyone saw me, but I had a crossbow armed just in case. I had a thin fishing line attached to the bolt. For one purpose, really: to yank the dead body out of the tower and into the snow with me. I may not be the perfect soldier, but I do know a lot about being stealthy and guerrilla warfare.

I waited for the patrol to pull away from the edge, returning to peek at the other side of the snowy bank. According to the blind woman who healed me earlier, my remaining Reachmen were waiting by the cliffs down on the other side of the river. It was the giant stretch of rock that housed the Blue Palace. We were going to climb all the way up the giant plateau of rocks until we reached the castle's drainage sewers, climb inside, and using a map that we had: find the drainage pipe that led to the castle's prison cells. Then, free Bloodstain and Summoner, give them the potions to restore them to their previous power, and take the castle by force. Man, I sure it worked out as well as she planned it would.

Making my way through the snow on a counted sprint/dive tactic worked out great. I was never spotted by any patrols glancing over their gods-forsaken walled fortress. I eventually made my way over to the river, which had been frozen over for nearly 50 years. Sliding my way across was a breeze. Upon landing on the other side, I saw some movement and unsheathed my serrated sword. I snapped my fingers twice, each one sending out a small dull red flash of fire magic. I saw a reply of two snaps and green magicka magic. Good, my team had spotted me. So far, so good.

I started climbing on the flat surface that made up the groundwork of the giant pillar of rocks. Looking up into the almost midnight sky, I could barely see the rest of the mountainous pillar that we had to climb or the castle. The light of the twin moons gave me enough to go by so I slid my sword away and turned to face my squad. I nodded to them. "Ok, gents. This should be easy. Our mission: jail break, castle raid, throne succession, and escape all before tea time. Any questions?"

My team of six Reachmen just stood there, looking at me and then at each other. One of them shrugged and said, "Can we get started?"

I nodded and pointed up at the castle. "So, Reachmen. Let's see just how far we can reach before dawn." I pulled my spiked enchanted climbing gloves on and slammed my hand hard against the stone. I felt a welcoming smack as my enchantment allowed the metal pike to go through the rock and lock in place until my second hand was also caught. My boots were enchanted with a similar spell. All of our equipment was.

Slowly we rose through the rocks. I was getting high enough to see the lights in the castle, dim as they might be, but I could see them. Large gusts of wind blew against us, threatening to throw us off, but we all continued to climb without halting. Even when we encountered ice, we managed to push through until we came up to the flat-surfaced stonework of the castle's walls. We had made it.

I started looking around for an entrance for the sewers. I memorized the entire map layout just for this purpose. I positioned myself at the start of the climb so that when I made it to the base of the castle, there would be a small round hole that leaked all the nasty things that the castle did not want. The problem was…I did not see it.

So, I looked over to my fellow Reachmen and said, "Are we at the right spot?"

One of them nodded. "Yes, but the hole is just a little concealed. It's just to your left."

So I started climbing left and I was certain that I didn't see it. Until I heard sloshing. Then a giant wave of water came flying out of the bulging rocks just lower than us and I could see that the sewer was lower than we had thought. Good thing, I was about to give up. I started climbing down until I could see the hole. It was just big enough for us to muscle our ways through.

I looked to my fellow Reachmen and said, "Whoever draws the short straw goes in first."

…

The tunnel was slick, smelly, and filled with the nastiest things you would ever expect to see in your life. It was almost bad enough that it blinded me and choked my lungs as I quickly attempted to scatter through the maze of small tunnels that made up the castle's sewage system. Since they just flushed the pipes, we had a small window of opportunity before they flushed the next round. We finally found ourselves underneath a giant tunnel that ended underneath a giant barred grate. That was supposedly the torture room, adjacent to the prison cells. Right where the other prisoners could see the interrogation methods, just in case they needed another reason to be afraid for their lives.

I started climbing up, happy that my spikes continued to pass through the metallic pipe as I climbed up, both arms stretched out as far as they could, slowing pushing myself up the wider pipe. I could smell fresh air. I could also hear Bloodstain and Summoner talking.

"We'll get out of here." Bloodstain said through a hazy voice.

"How?" I heard Summoner reply, her voice sounding cracked and beaten.

I growled. I couldn't waste any more time. They sounded like they needed help. I peeked up through the gate, not seeing anything at first. I started activating my detect life spell. My eyes snapped open, covered with a light green hue over the land. Giant shades of white and blue filled the hallway surrounding the cells. White represented non-essentials, aka other prisoners, blue represented allies. No purple, vampires; or red, enemies. Good.

I punched the grate open and threw myself up. I landed quietly on the ground, but I was heard by someone.

"Who's there?" A guard said as he came around the corner. It was a standard Thalmor dressed in black elven armor with blood-red edging. When he saw me, he began to reach for his little rape whistle. He never got the chance. I Wulded up to him, slashing his head off before he could even raise the whistle to his lips. I spun around, caught his body, and lowered it to the ground without it making a sound.

I started walking through the rows of cages. If I wanted a really good distraction, a prison break was what I needed, but I was going to wait until everyone was sobered up, armed, and ready to fight. Looking through the cages, I could see children, mothers, former Stormcloaks, and former Alik'r soldiers in chains. There were enough of them to raise an entire army right here. The only problem, they all looked like zombies; eyes glazed over, dreamy smiles. They were drugged. Good thing I have healers with me.

There, in a cage I could see Bloodstain and Summoner. They were sitting near the end of their cells, their hands closed around each other. I paused for a second just enjoying see Bloodstain sort of content with his predicament. After that moment was saved in my head for my best-man speech at his wedding, I ran up to him.

His eyes locked on mine, but he looked more confused than lucid. "Madanach? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life!" I called. I unsheathed my sword and slashed through the lock to his cage door. I kicked it in and walked up to him. "Take my hand and we'll take Skyrim back."

…

[Bloodstain]

I cracked my neck as I slid my backup mask over my head. Once I felt the silky material hug my skin in a cold refreshing manner, I felt like I was returning home. Sure, I was dressed in raggy clothes and not in my armor, but I was happy just having my face back.

I waited as Madanach broke through Vivian's cage. He did his little hand trick and her eyes unglazed over. She smiled as she saw us, throwing Madanach into a tight hug. "Oh thank the gods, I thought you were dead!"

Madanach nodded, saying, "Don't worry, Shoutmen aren't easy to kill." Then, Madanach looked over at me. "Hey, Bloodstain. Care to fill me in on what's going on? Some blind healer told me that I had to get this far and then…you'd lead me to the next phase of operation: kill Fiirnar and save Skyrim."

I started thinking about my dream. The entire world was burning and it was because of something I did. What was I going to do? I couldn't think about it now. I had to do something else. I looked at Vivian and said, "Well, this is..." I pointed to Vivian. "The Summoner is really Princess Cecilie's great grandchild."

That sent Madanach into a confused glance. "What? Wow. Ok, so…we kill Fiirnar and get her crowned as High Queen. For that we'd have to kill the current High King and place the crown on her head, since only a Dragonborn of the Battle-Born clan can wear it properly." He said, rubbing the growing beard on his chin. "Sounds easy."

_I shook my head. "Not easy. We still have to deal with the Thalmor, the vampires, the rest of the world, oh…and the giant magicka cannon that can cause problems to everyone in the whole world."_

* * *

_**Cearbhail**: Next chapter, the finisher. I thought up all day on how to end this and now I have the perfect ending. And then, I will have a story premier. It will be called "Changing Fates". You'll see. I might also put up another story premier "The Melencholy of Cecilie". If you know what melencholy means, you can guess what the story will be like and then once you read the Changing Fates, I'm sure you'll figure out what I've been planning since the end of the Khajiit Battlemage. Everything is linked._


	12. Chapter 12

**Cearbhail:**_ Ok, final chapter. It did not come out as good as I had hoped, but it still gets the job done. Please let me know if you hated it. As I'm sure you all might._

* * *

_Bloodstain's journal, entry 9, 8 Morningstar 4e423_

_The time has come. The final battle. Reachman has released the prisoners, healed them with his Thu'um, made them weapons from the bars of their cages, and now…we're going to take back our castle. Then Solitude, then Skyrim. Then…the rest of Tamriel._

_I had lost hope. I thought I was going to lose my sanity to blood-suckers. I have my resolve again. Because I have a plan. Tonight a new High Queen will be crowned and this land will belong to her. All hail High Queen Vivian Battle-Born. That is all I have to say. Now, I have to meet the nice Councilor Fiirnar and discuss with him how upset I am at his killing all my friends._

_Bloodstain…_

…

The castle was once a proud place. It was called the Blue Palace, filled with some of the greatest kings and queens of Skyrim's history. Now, it was a vampire lair. The castle walls were stained with blood; the blood of the people who were killed her, feed on here, and who were now being killed in a violent castle takeover.

The castle was in an uproar. It was an uproar by our design. Madanach had freed the prisoners, gave them weapons and let them claim revenge on the elves that placed them here. We may have lost our army, but we still had a strong force. And now, it was already inside the walls, inside the castle. The prisoners easily outnumbered the amount of guards within the castle. The only problem was that there were plenty of vampiric Altmer here as well and they were stronger than ordinary elves.

My team and I walked up through the hallway, looking into each room for someone to kill. The prisoners were having an easy time with the small fry, but if we really wanted them to survive long enough to make a difference, the Shoutmen had to kill all the vampires within the castle before the prisoners found them instead. I found a lovely room on the second floor filled with expensive drapery and a giant dining table. I bet this was the dining room that Fiirnar had mentioned upon my first arrival to the castle. I stepped inside already finding someone to kill. Within seconds I could see a couple Thalmor who looked pale and thin. They sat down to a small child who was strapped down, his eyes glazed over. He had his arms cut open. The elves' mouths glistened with fresh blood.

Upon looking at their faces, I could tell that they were some of the upper royalty from Cyrodiil. They had to be some of the councilors from around Tamriel. I unsheathed my dagger and stepped into the room. Time for them to rejoin the cycle. The two vampires hissed as they flew over their tables at me. I smiled as I breathed in and cupped my hands around my mouth. "FUS, AUS, SHUL!" I Shouted as fast as I could. My triple Thu'um hit them fast and hard. I had to admit, I was doing it mostly because right now…I could.

My Fus threw them back against the wall, my Aus made them feel weak and ill. And then finally, my Shul created a giant orb of sunlight that blasted out of my cupped hand like a beam of pure energy. The already weakened vampires cried out as their skin burnt to a crisp and they caught fire. I don't care how much of my blood that they drank, this sunlight was powerful enough to kill _me_.

Two Thalmor knights came charging into the room, their swords drawn. Vivian spun past me, already ripping portals to the ethereal planes open. Two long glass daggers appeared in her hands and she was now covered in glass armor. She slid onto her knees, sliding right underneath the guards' swords. She slashed with both of her daggers, cutting both warriors around their kneecaps. They both cried out in pain as they fell to the ground. Vivian flipped herself around, slamming a knife through each of their necks.

She looked up at me and smiled. "How was that?" She asked me as innocently as she could.

I chuckled and scratched at my mask, trying to relieve my nose from an itch. It didn't work. "What do I think? I think I'm falling in love with you."

I saw her smile as she stood up. "Well, let's wait until after the fight to discuss that." She walked up to me and sheathed her knives into special knife scabbards built into the thigh plates. She grabbed me by my waist and pulled me closer to her. "But…a kiss won't hurt us." She pulled up my mask just enough to sink her lips in.

I was lost for a couple seconds. I don't know why, but just thinking about this kiss reminded me of the vampire feedings that I had been enduring for the past few nights. The pain, the bliss, every bit of it was captured in this kiss. The way Vivian's tongue danced on mine, the way she seemed to breathe into my mouth, the way I probably breathed into hers as well. It was nothing more than uncomfortable in a blissful way. I would have enjoyed the kiss, I knew I would have, but there was still the feeling of vampires biting down on me that made me shudder. It was ruining this for me. When the kiss was finished, Vivian pulled back, her eyes just as filled with that memory as mine were. She was obviously disappointed with the end result. She just stood there for a second before saying, "It's going to take a while before we recover from this nightmare, isn't it?"

I nodded. "It might. But at least we'll recover together."

And just like that we were running through the castle again, looking for Fiirnar. I bet he was up at the throne room, sitting in the chair like he owned it, even though he wasn't the High King.

Madanach ran into us, his own sword covered in light purple blood. He nodded to us. "I've killed a few vampires, the resistance is really hitting them hard. Shall we head on up to the top level and look for Fiirnar?"

I looked around. There was something bothering me. I looked up towards the ceiling and I remembered that the magicka cannon was resting on top of the castle's tower. I shook my head. "No, we're going about this the wrong way. Fiirnar is just a man. It was his machine that killed all our people in one blast, not him. If we destroy his machine…and then go kill him, we'll be on the right course. Besides, if I were a paranoid maniac who will do anything to kill the Shoutmen…I would be up there right now preparing to fire the cannon straight down into the throne room."

"Why would he do that?" Vivian asked. "All his fellow leaders are…" She stopped.

I nodded. "Right. He shares power with every vampire within this castle and now…they're all here under the same roof. If Fiirnar changed that and killed them all, he would be the only vampire Thalmor alive. He would rule the entire Aldmeri Dominion…all of Tamriel without any power struggles strong enough to beat him."

And just like that, we were running as fast as we could to find the nearest staircase. Madanach led the way since he was clutching a map like his life depended on it. His eyes were glued to it as he sprinted through the halls, Vivian and me following behind him. A couple Thalmor in our way, guarding the staircase, were Shouted by the Ice Form Thu'um as we raced past them and up the stairs. We reached the top to see a ladder leading up. So, we jumped. "BO…SU!"

I had a few seconds to take in what I saw as I fell to the ground. Fiirnar was indeed up here on the roof of the tower. I had never actually seen the magicka cannon before. But it was just as the blueprints suggested…with some tweaks. The whole cannon was the size of a mammoth. At the end of the cannon was a giant swirling orb of blue glowing light. The Eye of Magnus, as it was called. I remembered everything I read on the Eye of Magnus. It had enough power within it to destroy all of Tamriel if it was every harnessed improperly. Surrounding the Eye of Magnus was a familiar design that I had seen in notes taken by Mannimarco. The Black Soul Gem Capacitor. It was a device originally designed to power a Great Dark Welkynd stone. It took seven black soul gems to power, but when it was successfully activated, it had the power to end the Aedra Wars so long ago.

I looked up at the Great Dark Welkynd stone. It rested comfortably inside a different slot of the cannon. Most likely designed to capture souls while the Eye of Magnus was designed to rip anything up into shreds.

Standing near the front of the machine was Fiirnar, his white hair flowing in the giant gust of wind that was threatening to throw us off the roof. The magic brewing within the cannon had created a giant swirling set of thunderclouds above us, illuminating our battle with strikes of lightning, but no rain. Just the way I like it.

Fiirnar looked over at the three of us and smiled. "Oh, look at this. The three of the four remaining Shoutmen up here, standing together…ready to fight the big bad elf." He screamed over the raging wind. He spread his arms out. "By all means…teach me a lesson."

I started to charge forward, but Fiirnar only smiled. As I reached into blast him with a fireball, he dissolved into a cloud of bats. I heard them chirping as they flew past me. "You still have much to learn, Bloodstain." I heard from behind. By the time I snapped around, Fiirnar was already grabbing his head in pain. "Now…you will witness…a vampire lord's…true power!"

He screamed as his skin burst into flame and blood. Both Vivian and Madanach jumped back as the very air around Fiirnar exploded with force. He stepped out of the flames, a new person. He was tall, had strong wings, dressed like a transvestite, and was well-built. I did not believe the rumors that vampire lords looked asexual. I mean, I knew they sparkled, but that outfit just screamed 'batty'. He was wearing nothing but a tight leather loincloth. I don't think anyone should ever have to put up with seeing that.

Fiirnar looked down at me. He levitated from the ground. He smiled as he said, "This is my true form!"

Madanach shook the confusion off as he stood up. He looked at Fiirnar and averted his eyes away. "Ah, dude! Sick! Put some pants on."

Fiirnar smiled and raised his hand to Madanach. With a snap of his wrist, Madanach flew away, sliding against the stonework until he crashed into the wall.

Next, Fiirnar raised his hand to me. "WULD!" I screamed into my cupped hand. I vanished, reappearing behind Fiirnar with my blade raised. I could see blood glistened on my blade. I was disappointed when I found out that it was from my own side. I screamed as I cried out, grabbing my side in pain. I lost my balance and fell to my knee, my breath already becoming painful.

The loud sound of magicka started to hum to life. Fiirnar laughed as he looked back at his machine. "Any second now the cannon will be ready to fire. And when it does…I will be the only person worthy of the throne left!"

"No you won't!" Vivian screamed. She stood up and brushed her hand over her face. Her red hair changed back to black and her pointy ears melted away.

Fiirnar watched in dismay as her face started to change back. He glanced at her and said, "You look a lot like Lydia Battle-Born." His scowl turned into a smile as he looked over at me and then to her. "So, I was correct. Bloodstain did find the Summoner."

"Yes, he did find her. And…she's already beaten you." Vivian said, crossing her arms, dropping her swords in the process.

Fiirnar smiled. "Really? How so?"

She smiled in return. She took in a deep breath and yelled, "REVAK, SHUL, TOOR!" She stuck out her hands and a massive beam of golden sunlight flashed out, consuming Fiirnar. He screamed out in pain as he fell backwards, clawing at his burning flesh. His scary outer form started to burn away, revealing his true form…a weak Altmer vampire.

I pushed myself up as I started feeding Restoration magic into my wound. Fiirnar was still writhing on the ground, gasping in pain as his flesh refused to heal. Steam rolled off his exposed muscle. As he twitched and glared around, his eyes found me. "You're too late. The cannon is armed. Going to fire."

I actually smiled. "Then we will destroy it."

"Then what?" He asked. "You think that will solve anything? The orb will explode, killing us all in the blast. The world will still be ruled by the Aldmeri Dominion, if not by me. Your race will never recover."

I looked back at him. "Then I'll use the blast to kill a Thalmor base and then destroy it!"

He smiled at me. "You don't get it. We've become technological gods. We've achieved what the Dwemer never could. I won't be the first to figure out how to build this cannon and other Thalmor will learn how to create more powerful weapons. Our world only grows darker by the day." He chuckled. "Face it, we can't go back."

I shook my head. "No, we can go back." I looked over at the cannon. "And I know just how to do that."

Both Madanach and Vivian looked up at me in surprise. I don't think they were following my line of thought. Neither was Fiirnar.

"What are you planning on doing, Bloodstain?" Fiirnar asked, his body still twitching, still burning.

I walked up to the cannon and brought up the targeting screen. I had never seen anything like this before but it looked so basic, so familiar. Fiirnar was right, anyone could build this. The Eye of Magnus wasn't always around, the Dwemer created it and we've just completed what the Dwemer never could, a workable magicka cannon. If we could make this, an Eye of Magnus would be easy. And next time, I might not be around to destroy it.

"Answer me!" Fiirnar screamed through his skin-burnt expression.

I looked back at him. "This cannon is aligned under the fire elemental spell and it's aimed right at your main oil pipe. One shot from this will set that oil on fire and it will spread so fast, magnified from the magicka cannon, that it will destroy all your factories, all the Dwemer ruins. Everything will be gone."

Fiirnar looked pissed. "No! You can't do that! We'll never recover! We'll go back to using swords for combat and horses for transportation!"

I smiled. "Good. That means that the Aldmeri Dominion won't have an edge against the other races anymore. We'll all be on the same battlefield."

Fiirnar shook his head. "No, we still have magicka. And all the inferior races don't have any knowledge of any spells at all."

I looked up at the Eye of Magnus. "And…neither will you. I have the Eye of Magnus set to implode. When it goes 'poof' with the Great Dark Welkynd stone…it will cause a disturbance to the natural lay lines of magicka. Magicka as we know it will come to a standstill for a while, getting rid of your magical edge as well. Sure, it won't last even a year, but it will be long enough for my country to kick you back to your own island. Where you all belong. You are right about one thing. If you had magic, you would win. But you rely too much on it. My men don't. When your fireballs and staffs stop working, we'll run right through you."

Fiirnar snarled. "Why did you keep me alive this long?"

I ripped my mask off my face. "Because I wanted to show you…how to plan accordingly." With that Madanach walked up and shot a bolt into his face. Fiirnar was finally dead.

I looked at the magicka cannon. It was coming to its final rounds before firing. I looked over at Madanach and said, "Think I did the right thing?"

He nodded. "The Reachmen have always wanted things to go back to the old days. You were right. If we didn't do this, we would have lost against a Thalmor retaliation. This way, they will be still running around with their heads chopped off. I mean…all their factories and all the Dwemer ruins…gone…" His face paused. He looked over at me. "Bloodstain, my home _is_ a Dwemer ruin!"

I glanced up at him and smiled. "Don't worry. We already lit that place up. There was no more oil to reach there and the pipe caved in long ago. The fire won't reach there."

Madanach nodded. "I sure hope not. It's not like we can change it anyway."

Vivian scrunched up her eyes. "What about the loss of magicka?"

I shrugged. "I don't know if we'll lose the ability to Shout, but your Conjuration magic will be affected. Don't worry, I crunched the numbers. Such an implosion will only disperse and interrupt the lay lines for three months. Just long enough to push the Thalmor out of Skyrim and out of Cyrodiil. From there, we can handle it a step at a time."

She nodded and came in for a hug. "Ok, I trust you."

The three of us watched as a giant red beam fired from the cannon. The giant ball of flame raced across the sky until we couldn't see it anymore. We continued watching. Once the cannon clicked off, the Eye of Magnus spun out of control. I motioned everyone to stand back as the orb started crackling with electricity. Then the orb started spinning faster and faster, finally pulling in and becoming nothing but a small bright ball. I could feel the orb pulling in energy as it struggled to stay stable. The dark welkynd stone broke off the cannon, flying into the tiny orb of magnus. Finally, the orb exploded into a bright blue fire that spread out for a few meters before dying out. The cannon was ripped apart in the explosion as was the dark welkynd stone.

The three of us were hit by the shockwave, but we all used our last Shouts to protect ourselves. Appropriately, we Shouted, "FUS!" The whole Dragonborn tale began with Asger Shouting 'FUS'. And now it ended with us Shouting it.

I stepped back up to the tower and glanced out at the land. I could see the giant pillars of fire as the factories exploded. Giant lines of oil light up as a giant wall of flame and I could feel the heat already. Skyrim might have been the coldest place in Tamriel, but right now I would die to be in a pair of shorts. I nodded as I looked over the land. Everything was just as I dreamed. And the Seer was right…I did it for the right reasons. Well, I hoped so at least.

…

Once we finished watching the world burn from our rooftop, we started walking back down to see about killing the rest of the vampire overlords. What we found were the prisoners standing over kneeling Thalmor wizards and soldiers. They looked confused, like their elemental energy had just turned itself off. The Seer was right about that too. She told me that I could burn and silence the world. I never took the meaning of silence as the spell 'silence' which created a giant bubble of non-magic. It was temporary, I'm sure of it.

Within a minute we kicked Farwen's butt and took the crown from him. We properly crowned Vivian as the next High Queen of Skyrim. It seemed like an empty victory, but to all the prisoners who bowed to her, it felt like a major victory. With all the magic silenced, we held off kicking out the elves. Madanach and I just walked outside and threw the previous High King's head on a spike with a note on it. 'New High Queen: Thalmor…leave.'

They tried to take us back. Within two days, the elves started to leave. Most of the couldn't fight us and the majority of the town were civil folks. Some wished to stay and continue living here. No problem for us at least. Until they try something.

That's the thing. We may have weakened the Thalmor, but they'll recover. They may have lost precious research, equipment, and with all the oil in the world destroyed…they may not be able to power their vehicles, or their weapons. Boo hoo. But they will think of something. Here's the good news. Skyrim is already recovering. We started early. They are still running around in circles. Cyrodiil and Hammerfell are right at our doorsteps, both filled with men and women who want their land back. Do the math. All it takes is a push and we have three months to do as much damage as we can.

No, this is not the end of our story. This is only the beginning. But it is the end of my story. You see…I'm going to be a father now. While I'll be here, changing diapers and feeding a child with a bottle; Madanach will be leading the frontlines. He will take the fight to the Aldmeri Dominion until they are back in Valenwood and out of our hair for good. After that, who cares what they do. As long as they stay away from us, we don't give a shit.

I wish I had more to discuss. More of the story to tell. But, I'm needed in the bed chambers. My wife needs me for something.

Bloodstain…

* * *

_**Cearbhail**: Next chapter, the new story premier. And yes, I know horrible ending. Bloodstain becomes a father, does a whole monologue thing to discuss what happened in a couple days' time. But, it just seemed like a lot of information to try to pull out as any other way so I went with that._


	13. Story Premier: Changing Fate

**Cearbhail:**_ Ok, the BONUS CHAPTER. A little taste of what happened to Bloodstain after the war. Set 4 months in the future and it also serves as a STORY PREMIER for the long, long, long time from now book "Changing Fate". If you're still wondering about what it can be about, you will find out by the end. It's really pretty obvious, and I make no attempt to hide it. Never have. Always hinting towards it._

* * *

_Claus Mottiere's journal, 7 Rain's Hand 5e000_

_It's the third month of the new age. Hanging up my duster and my mask may be the right thing to do, but…I feel so restless. I should be out fighting, but I have decided to stay here with my wife. She may be the new High Queen of Skyrim, but she's still a little naïve about just how this world can be. While Skyrim recovers, for which I am eternally grateful, Hammerfell continues to be a Challenge._

_According to the last report I received from Madanach, he had taken the White-Gold Tower and has formed a resistance from several of the slave camps around Cyrodiil. We have the makings of an army. So, we had Madanach leading up a revolution in Cyrodiil. We almost didn't have anyone to take the fight to the Thalmor in Hammerfell, but just guess who walked through the door a couple days after Vivian was crowned. It was one of our older Shoutmen, Storm. Jarl of former Windhelm…Stormcloak._

_He had a very logical reason for having his soldiers try to kill me. The soldiers that accompanied me were being blackmailed by the Aldmeri Dominion. If they offed me…their children and spouses would be spared. Sorry to say, even if the spouses were spared, the ones who pushed me off the mountain weren't. He apologized for not joining me in the fight, but he had his own battles to attend. Being hunted can do that to you. Now that the magic was gone, he brushed through his war and back onto ours. He's taking Hammerfell. All is going fine as long as the magicka stays gone for a little longer._

_Claus…_

_…_

I opened my eyes. Early morning, quiet. Nice breeze through the window, sun still early to rise. Wife was still sleeping in her side of the bed, happily moaning while she dreamed about something. My new journal lied next to the bed. My old Bloodstained journal was tucked somewhere in the training room. I felt it belonged there, next to the row of swords. Soldiers would go in and read from it, draw their strength from the knowledge of what the past was like. They asked me to write a book on the history of Skyrim and the Aldmeri Dominion. So I did. No matter what happens beyond this point in our lives, never again will we forget what happened to us. What pain we went through and just what happens when you let outside parties dictate how you live and think.

Four months. That's how long it's been since we blacked out the world's power source. The oil was gone, the magicka in the air was still flow-less, disturbed, weakened. It has gradually returned, but all I can manage is a small flame, not the Shouts I used to be able to do. Because of this the Thalmor haven't had time to recover either. And more than that, it has allowed us to catch up magically. Students poured through some of the 'restricted' materials burnt by the elves. Tomes and tomes of ancient magic. I smiled when I realized that all these tomes were kept in the Orc stronghold where Vivian lived. Summoner did everything she could to keep the Thalmor from destroying magic. And it has paid off.

It only took us less than a month to become decent. In both spellcraft and economy. The economy took a massive blow but you know what? Since we originally decided what cost what and what was used as currency, we decided that we would just have a clean slate for once. People went back to mining and farming; metal working and cooking. At least until we have our homes rebuilt and our lives back to normal, we don't need to spread gold coins to make sure that we're getting along just fine. For now at least. Some of our new magicka-weavers took the time to help magically enhance crops, water wells, stuff like that. Magic used to help instead of hurt. Something we had forgotten about.

But no matter how much good I talk about, there was still plenty of bad. Other matters had to be attended to immediately, like elf discrimination. Right from the start of kicking the Thalmor out of power, most of the population of humans and beasts wanted all elves kicked out. I was uncertain if that would help or not. Regardless it was Vivian who made the ultimate call: To let them be. She did not want us to raise ourselves to become elf haters and stated that our wars would only continue if we continued to separate ourselves to the point of hatred. Sure, we've had attempts on her life, but I was here to stop them. The elves were treated with individually. Better this way.

I sat up and started looking around the room. Sometimes I would see a Thalmor with a dagger, sometimes a Stormcloak with a message from the battlefront. And even more often, a servant with our breakfast or a glass of water. Good mornings those were. But this morning, nothing. I'm not usually up this early, but something was nagging at me. Some…feeling that I should expect something. I couldn't shake it, so I rose from the bed and started following my instincts, see where they led me.

I opened the door and peered out. Nothing. No intrusion in the hallway, no noise. It was almost as if the castle itself was dead. So, I stepped out of the room, hoping that by leaving my wife alone I would not come back and find her neck slit. She had to be watched at all times until she at least gave birth a few times. We need her clan to stay alive at all costs, and we all know that.

Even as I closed the door, I could see another door open. It was a Stormcloak, rubbing his eye. He glanced at me and nodded. "Good morning, King Motierre."

I nodded to him as I walked up. "Anything wrong?" I asked him. "My Shoutman sense is tingling."

He shook his head. "Nothing, sir. I heard your door open so I thought I'd inspect it. I did not realize it would be you this early in the morning." He walked out of the door, dressed in his blue Stormcloak armor. "Is there anything you require of me, sire?"

I nodded. "I'm going for a walk, try to figure out what I'm sensing. Watch the queen for me and blow the horn if you even _suspect_ an attack."

He nodded in return and silently walked into our chambers. I however had a nagging feeling that was dragging my eyes up at the roof where Fiirnar died. Silently, I found myself to the staircase and slowly started dragging myself up. There was something up there, something that I needed to see. I just knew it, but that didn't mean that I just had to run up and bust down the door. No, I liked operating slowly these days. I lived my whole life in constant war, running from one threat to the next; fighting, running, bleeding. For once I got the chance to walk and I was going to take it every step that I could.

My eyes fell on the ladder leading up to the top of the tower. Any other day, I'd just Shout my way up, but I can't Shout anymore. Vivian, yes; Madanach, yes; me, no. I was never a real Shouter, just not strong enough in the blood. But that didn't stop me from pretending to Shout, didn't stop me from saving Skyrim. Nor did it stop me from climbing the ladder with my own two hands.

Once I reached the top of the tower, I found out what had woken me up. A sky filled with dark clouds, lightning in the distance of High Hrothgar, coming our way. The wind blew slightly disturbed, almost charged. I could feel it inside my bones, within my soul. Something was happening.

But that wasn't the only thing that woke me up. Four months ago, we set up a Great Welkynd stone. It sat on its altar, lifeless, without magicka. We were going to use the crystal to tell us when the magicka would return. When the lay lines would stabilize and the magicka would flow through the world, this crystal would start humming and levitating off the ground, full of magic. That's what it was doing now, levitating. The disturbance had finally worked its way out.

Smiling, I realized that if everything had worked its way back to normal… I looked up at the sky. I wanted to raise my hand, but for just this once…I wanted to see if I could by myself. I wanted to Shout. So, I closed my eyes, focused deep within my hara, and willed my intention into Thu'um. "YOL!" I screamed. It was small, but a puff of fire sprouted from my mouth, formed into a ball, and died off a few inches later. It was a start…but that was how my Shouts were. Weak. They were erased all together when the magicka disappeared. The other Shoutmen retained their Shouts, but they were only strong enough to cause distractions or topple multiple foes long enough for the reinforcements to finish them off.

I still looked at the spot where a fireball shot out of my mouth. I never realized just how much I wished that I could do a normal Shout without having to throw my hands up and add magicka to it the old-fashioned way. But still, even if it was a small ball of fire, it felt nice to have it back.

"Nice Thu'um. Congratulation, Bloodstain." A light voice cooed from behind me.

My back turned cold and shivers went down my arms. I knew that voice. But…it couldn't be. Her voice only existed within my dreams. So, instead of turning around and reassuring myself that she did not exist, I continued to keep my back to her. "Oh? Thanks." I replied back to the wind.

"Are you blind?" She called. "I'm back here. Or…are you afraid at what you will see?"

"Not afraid…" I replied back, throwing my eyes onto the levitating welkynd stone. "Just disappointed. You sound like a girl from my dreams. Someone that doesn't exist anymore."

"Oh? Just who do you think I am?" She asked, her voice filled with laughter.

I shrugged. "Princess Cecilie, also known to the Shoutmen as…the Seer."

"Right…present." She called, throwing her arms around my shoulders. "And…I have a mission."

I growled as I spun myself around. "Vivian, if this is a joke, it's not in good tastes." But Vivian is not who I saw. There standing inches away from me, was a smaller version of the woman in my dreams. Younger, teenage. She had bright white eyes, longer black hair. She was dressed in mithril battlemage armor, the old armor that existed only several hundred years ago.

I stumbled back, tripping on my own feet. "You…" I started, already losing my words. "Impossible."

She smiled mischievously. "No, not impossible. Psijic can do it…so can I." She bent down to see me eye-to-eye. "You are Bloodstain, leader of the Shoutmen. You lived through a dark age of oppression and injustice. But you never gave up. And even though the world tried to push you down, you pushed back. And now, you've not only saved Skyrim, but you saved Tamriel. And now…you're going to help me."

My breath escaped my lungs in the form of a laugh. Not any sort of laugh that was directed at her, just the fact that this was happening. I started to push myself back onto my feet. "I get the chance to help Princess Cecilie? I'll do anything."

She smiled and stuck out her hand. "Then take my hand. I have some friends you'd like to meet. And then…we're changing my fate."

I looked down at her hand and then back up at her. "What will happen to here?"

She shrugged. "This is a result of another time, another me. What we do should not actively affect this world, but one parallel to it. Your double will grow up normally, meet Vivian in different circumstances, fall in love, all the same things. That part is written in stone, written in scroll. But…it will be a different world, but still not this one. But, if I die, and the Thalmor take over, the new world will be the same as this one. But we won't let that happen, not anymore. When all our fighting is done, you will be returned to this spot at the very second that you left. Your life will go on and my friends and I will help secure your future as well, if you want our help. Now…if you have any questions, get them out now." She said, crossing her arms and leaning back. She had spirit, I liked it.

"When are we going back to?" I asked. This was the one chance I might get to do something useful and I was wasting time asking pointless questions. I wanted to smack myself for questioning her.

"Far enough to keep the Thalmor from claiming Skyrim. We're returning to when I left to fight in the Aedra Wars. Right after my 16th birthday." She replied.

"Why not earlier? Why not the Aedra Wars?" I asked.

"…" She stared off into the past. She finally looked away. "Because it's before my birth. I am willing to disobey the rules of the Psijics to bring people from near past and future to help me in my time…but even I am unwilling to go back in time to change the past in a distinctive way. I may go back and help others do what they are doing and offer support, or even nudge toward something that will improve their time. But I will not change the past myself. Even so…" Her eyes started tearing up. "I do not want to die like this. It does so much bad. Even if _you_ fix it…_I_ am still the cause. I can change it, we can stop it. This future never has to be so dark. And I don't have to die…not yet."

Now I could see what this was really about. I could not idly stand by and have her go back to her deathbed. So I nodded and stuck out my hand to take hers. "I do have one more question."

She glanced up me before the circle started to glow. "Yes?"

"Can I meet Paarthurnax?" I asked.

"Learn to Shout like I do?" I could see the grin on her face grow. "I wouldn't have it any other way." And just like that, I said goodbye to my world. Hopefully, I would be back.

* * *

_**Cearbhail**: Yes, the book 'Changing Fate' will be the 'Avengers' of the Elder Scrolls books that I write. And taht would make Cecilie that black guy with the eye-patch who's always showing up at the last scene, clapping his hands slowly, and convincing everyone else to join his team. Oh yeah_

_Ah-hmm (clearing throat) The following story is a fan-based parody. Avengers and all its heroes were designed by people with overactive imaginations, lived in crappy conditions, and reminded us why heroes were needed in the past. And truly, even though other people bought out their creations and then dictated what to do with them once they owned the characters, we still support all the crap they do to them. Like new movies every ten years..._


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